Goodnight Noises Everywhere
by CreamPuffBunny
Summary: The streets are hard for the destitute and the poor in a rapidly growing city. After leaving the workhouse, Gilbert finds himself surviving on the streets, homeless and ill. Ivan is an escaped convict from the mental ward of the city's worst prison. They meet each other one stormy night while hiding inside an old burnt church. Needing companionship, they stick together to survive.
1. Gilbert's Story

**Summary**: The streets are hard for the destitute and the poor in a rapidly growing city. After leaving the workhouse by choice, Gilbert finds himself surviving on the streets once again, homeless, penniless, and ill. Ivan is an escaped convict from the mental ward of the city's worst prison. They meet each other one stormy night while hiding inside an old burnt church. Needing companionship, they stick together to survive. Both have nothing but the clothes on their back and fight to survive on the streets. The only happiness and love they have in their lives is each other. Can they pull together and use their love to bring themselves up from the slums of poverty? Or will the constant dangers of the city swallow them whole?

/

***Welcome to another RusPrus fic! ^_^ This fic will be set in an Alternate Universe based on Victorian England. In other words, altered history. These first two chapters will be introducing Ivan and Gilbert. The following will be their story together. I hope you enjoy it! This will be a fic full of angst and suffering, so be warned.

***Warnings: Language, mentions of non-con, violence

***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

_**For the night is dark and full of terrors. - A Song of Ice and Fire**_

**Goodnight Noises Everywhere**

Chapter 1: Gilbert's Story

The heavy rain pummeled on the deteriorating roof of the old burnt church in the midst of a powerful thunderstorm. Bolts of purple opened up the sky, making bright flashes of light illuminate the room. Shadows from the debris danced on the blackened rotted walls with each flash. The shadow of a rat flashed momentarily along the far wall, its form appearing in a different place with each crash of lightening. Across the way there was a large hole in the ceiling where the rain poured in and splattered against the rotten floorboards, its echo helping to drown out the sounds of squeaking from the rats. The wind blew in through broken slits in the walls, blowing at cobwebs and what little wallpaper had survived the fire.

Yet all of these things did nothing to frighten the young man who resided in the old building; alone, hungry, tried, and sick. Gilbert Beilschmidt sat propped against the far wall near a cracked stain glass window of a shattered cross and an angel. He wore a tattered and torn brown trench coat, hole-filled shoes, patched pants, fingerless gloves, and a moldy flat hat. As the thunderstorm raged on outside, Gilbert calmly played a familiar tune on his flute; his one and only prized possession. Not one of life's cruel and unforgiving challenges could ever make him sell his precious instrument. It held sentimental value to him, which was and had been the only shred of happiness in his life.

In the summer of his sixteen years of life, Gilbert had found his way into the life of a workhouse where the poor and downtrodden were given a chance to earn money and a simple, basic education. It was a vile and disgusting place; overpopulated with people from men, women and even children. Even the elderly were present. Each and every day, Gilbert, along with many other men, were sent to work in their assigned groups. He had first been placed with the able-bodied men group of the workhouse where they were made to crush bones to be used as fertilizer for local farms. It was a dirty job that he grew accustomed to. His job had been to sort the bones as they came in, everything from horses, to dogs, livestock and even the dead. Sorting the human bones were the worst, but Gilbert wanted that single meal and a bed to sleep in so he did as he was told. That was until he showed signs of contracting a disease, something the workhouse inhabitants called, 'the cough'. Once word had reached the Master of his beginning illness, Gilbert was reassigned to the sick and elderly group of the workhouse where he spent all day shining or making shoes. Due to his illness he was forced to wear a mask around his mouth and nose to keep it contained. The hospital ward did little for his aliments and all the mask did was scare people away from him.

Gilbert had been born an 'albino', a name he had only heard from a priest as a little boy trying to rob the church's grain shed. His parents had abandoned him when he was six, pushed out onto the streets to fend for himself. Gilbert ran with a group of orphan street children for many years until he decided to enter the workhouse. Being an albino and poor kept him from finding any work. People were afraid, even terrified of his pink eyes and white skin. Due to constant malnourishment, his pale skin was slightly transparent where one could see the light blue shade of veins beneath. To many God-fearing people he looked like a demon from the deepest layer of Hell, or the walking dead. Gilbert often heard the words 'demon', 'monster', 'ghost' and many more as he was turned away from potential work. People thought he was a 'bad omen' and would bring death, disease, and misfortune down on them. However, in the darkest and deepest alleys of the city streets his looks were a curse to himself. Pimps, soldiers, and the scum of the city wanted to either fuck him or force him to sell parts of his body, mainly his eyes. Once, when he was thirteen, he sold two teeth for some gold. The pay wasn't much, but he was able to put warm soup and bread in his belly for a day. He hated being on these streets, but he wasn't wanted in the higher parts of the city. The poor had to live in the slums where sewage water flooded the sidewalks and disease, along with crimes, ran high. Gangs ruled these parts; painted prostitutes decorated the building walls, murder and muggings happened all day, every day. Thus was the life of the poor.

It was no wonder the poor begged and fought to become part of the workhouse. Gilbert was fortunate himself to get into one. The workhouse provided the poor with the most basic needs of living, but at the price of working to the bone. The people who ran it were cruel, merciless, and wicked. The overseers were always beating their workers; women and children alike. Everyone in the workhouse suffered the same. Gilbert was often beaten when caught slacking in his work. It wasn't because he was lazy but more the fact that he was weak and ill. But it beat living on the streets in the darkest parts of the human world and not all of his time at the workhouse was unpleasant.

The second day upon being moved to the sick and elderly group, Gilbert happened to sit beside a middle-aged man, who was in his early fifties. The man's name was Fredrick, but everyone called him 'Old Fritz'. Day after day, Gilbert would talk, laugh and confide in the old man. To him, Fredrick was like the father he barely knew and unlike the other men, Fritz didn't fear him. At night, when the sick and elderly were packed into their small room, Fredrick would play his flute for everyone. To save room, all the single beds were pushed together, and Gilbert's was right next to Fredrick's. The man's music helped to ease the strains and pains of the living. Some nights, Fredrick would teach him how to play the flute until Gilbert was just as good as he was. Fredrick was the only friend in the workhouse he had, and Gilbert cherished their time together. But that happiness was taken away when Fredrick fell deathly ill with influenza. Fritz had tried to hide his illness, but the constant vomiting and use of the outhouse quickly gave him away. Before they could be separated, Fredrick gave his flute to Gilbert to keep in memory of him. Gilbert begged and pleaded with the Master to let him be present with Fredrick in the hospital ward, but his plea was answered with a riding crop to the face. The Master, in his twisted way, offered Gilbert entrance if he would 'put out'. Gilbert had never been with a man, or ever with a woman. He wanted to see his friend and 'father', so swallowing his pride and shame; he gave himself to the Master. But he should have seen the truth before it happened. The Master, once finished with him, laughed in his face, whipped him with the crop and sent him back to work.

Two days later, the Master came to him and said, with a jeering smile, that Fredrick had died. Gilbert tried to hold back his tears while polishing the shoes, but they fell in silent streams. Depressed and alone, Gilbert went about his work in a mindless daze. His attitude and slow work ethic caught the attention of the Master, who apparently had other plans for him. One day, while fixing a sole, Gilbert looked up as two shadows suddenly loomed over him from his place on the floor. Next to the jeering Master was a tall thin man in a white coat with glasses. Gilbert had a bad feeling about the tall man, so using his hat to shadow his eyes he hid his fear.

"Gilbert, this is Doctor Wainwright of the Willingboro Hospital and Research Labs. He is interested in talking to you."

Gilbert didn't answer and he was thankful for the white mask hiding his sneering mouth.

"Good morning to you, Gilbert." The doctor said in a friendly tone. "How are we feeling today?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Came Gilbert's sharp question.

The Master spoke next. "You see, Gilbert, Doctor Wainwright here is looking for peculiar people to study. And you, with your strange albino features, will prove to be a great help to the world of science. Isn't that right, doctor?"

Wainwright nodded. "Indeed. If you allow me to study you, Gilbert, I can offer you a comfortable room for lodging in my establishment. You'll have a clean bed, warm food, fresh clothes and even hot water for bathing." The man smiled with yellow teeth. "All I ask is that you allow me to study you. The more we know about your kind, the easier it will be to help others like you. Forget what God and his followers say! You have a condition brought on by mutations in the body, to put it simply. So what do you say? Will you come with me and help the human race?"

Gilbert ripped off his mask and stood up to face them with a look that could kill. "How dare you ask something like that of me! Don't think just because I have nothing and live in this godforsaken place that I'd willingly give up my life to…to SCIENCE! I am not some dead animal to be tested on! Not for any warm bed or food!"

The Master sneered at him. "Mind your demon tongue, freak! How dare you speak to a high society nobleman like that!"

"Gilbert," Wainwright started, "Think of all the possibilities you-"

Gilbert spat in his face. "Get away from me before I shove this shoe up your ass!"

Wainwright removed his glasses to wipe away the spit. "I see. Well then, forgive me for ruffling your feathers." He said with a hint of sarcasm. "You are a foolish, stupid man, and I pity you."

"You're no better than I am!" Gilbert said to him.

"Such spirit for a sewage dweller." Wainwright mocked and patted him on the head. "Have it your way, then. Die alone and forgotten in some shit-filled ditch somewhere rotting with disease. Good day to you."

It was then he made the choice to leave the workhouse. There was no law or contract binding him here and one less sick person in the house would not be missed. That was only one doctor who approached him; so many more were likely to come. But he was still too proud to give his body over to 'science', to be cut open like some slaughtered pig.

So with only the clothes on his back, Gilbert left the workhouse and took to the streets once again.

/

While on his search for a place to live and in search of food, the sound of joyful music filtered his ears. Following the sound, Gilbert pushed through the crowd to see a large colored wagon with a stage. The banner sported the name in bright red letters but he was unable to read. He could tell that it was a traveling circus and the man dressed in stripped purple pants and matching waistcoat with a broad rimmed top hat was the ringmaster. The ringmaster, whose name was Clifford Rochford, owned the largest traveling circus in the country. The circus, entitled, 'ROCHFORD'S AMAZING AND STUPENDOUS WORLD', consisted of wild animals, painted clowns, acrobats from around the world, magicians, performers, fortunetellers and the worst of all, the 'Freak House'. Gilbert was disgusted by it. But after the show, as the crowd was piddling away, Gilbert walked around the various wagons in the town square where the circus advertising was being held, searching for dropped food. It was there that the ringmaster approached him.

"Good afternoon to you, weary street dweller!" Said Clifford, twirling his thick brown handlebar mustache. "Do you see something you like here? These wagons are only a small portion of what my circus has to offer in the capital!" He tapped his cane against a painted poster of a tiger jumping through a flaming hoop.

"Sorry, not interested." Gilbert answered him. "I was just passing by."

"Nonsense! Judging by your dress and sad eyes, you live on these streets." Clifford gave him a pout and Gilbert sneered at it.

"You know nothing about me. So butt out, tent-pants!" He tried to walk way but Clifford jumped in front of him, nearly knocking him to the cobblestone with that big stripped belly.

"A handsome young man like you doesn't have to starve on these streets."

Gilbert glared at the man. "I'm not like that. Go get your circus rocks off on someone else!"

Clifford laughed heartedly. "No, foolish boy! I don't mean that!" The devilish eyebrows turned mischievous. "Hear me out first. I know what you are. You're an albino! A being missing all pigmentation of color! Why, I have a few animals in this wagon here that are albino as well! Doesn't God play a cruel joke on all His life forms?"

Gilbert pulled his coat closed over his chest. "What are you getting at, then?"

"Join my Freak Show. You'll like it there. I have many strange people like you who are searching for friendship and understanding."

"No." He started to walk away.

"Wait!" Clifford stopped him again. "Don't give such a haste answer without hearing the perks! You'll get paid a quarter of the price I get for showing you. There will be a warm bed and food! You will have shelter from the cold and warmth from the storm! Doesn't that sound just heavenly? Hm? After what you came from, it MUST sound like Heaven!"

"It sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me!" Gilbert roughly shoved past him. "I'm not a circus freak! I am myself!"

"You are an abnormality! An abomination! A blemish on this good world! Why allow yourself to suffer and starve when you could have a better life?"

Gilbert's shoulders stiffened, but he would not turn to look at Clifford. "I may not be proud of what I came from…but I'm still proud of who and what I am. Something a freak like you will never understand!"

"Don't you walk away from me!" Clifford hollered after Gilbert's retreating form. "You belong in MY world, albino! My offer still stands! Don't make me have to force you!"

Gilbert let the threat fall on deaf ears. He would never see this Clifford circus man again, so he didn't care.

/

This was to be his last night in the ally with the stray cats. For a month he had wondered the streets, but now it was time for a change. He had to find somewhere to stay; somewhere to hide away from the cruelties of this place and he was hungry. Very hungry. So much that he wandered into the back ally of a rich person's home to go through their trash. For hours he would wait behind the large bins, hiding from sight of the servants coming in and out; just waiting for the trash to be dumped. Just as he was about to fall asleep, a loud banging and clanging raddled his body and jerked him awake. The trash was being poured into the bins! His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered with the promise of food. Gilbert waited until it grew dark and the lamp lighter had passed the building before digging through the bins. His hands touched various textures of grimy food but to him it was a feast. There was a half-eaten chicken leg, which he tore into, nearly swallowing the bone whole. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of the cooked chicken as the bone lay on his tongue. While digger further, his hands came upon something soft. Pulling it out, he saw that it was a blanket. It smelled terrible and appeared to have some sort of spit-up on it. But that didn't bother him. It was still a good blanket that would keep him warm, so he tossed it over his shoulder and continued to dig. Up came dirtied fruit, half eaten nuts, a steak bone with little meat, and a half burnt candle. The candle he could use as well and he stuffed it inside his coat right next to the flute. Once he found a proper place to stay, in hopefully a better area, he would play his flute on the curb and hope people would give him money. Often times the police would chase away the poor if they were near the 'high dollar' part of the city. Begging and pleading with the rich in their carriages and steam engines could only get someone so far.

With a blanket and one candle, Gilbert took to the streets once again in search of somewhere to stay. He walked through the night and into the new day, passing through rich and poor parts of the city. But he was growing weak with the pains in his chest and the coughing was slowing him down. His legs were like weights pulling him down, yet they were thin. If he didn't find a place to rest away from harm he would collapse, thus getting robbed of his blanket and candle. If God really did exist in this dark world then He must have led him to this church; one that had burned and was decaying. Gilbert felt tears sting his eyes as he looked upon the blackened structure. Half of the roof was still there. Many of the windows were broken and the siding was missing on a wall or two. The church was set back behind some old buildings, as if forgotten about. That was perfect! This was going to be his new home!

Gilbert used his shoulder to push the doors open and slide between them. The area opened to the sermon room where all the pews and benches were broken, rotted, or burnt. There was nothing left on the walls; no crosses, no statues, no paintings. Everything was probably stolen after the church first burnt down. Which was fine by him. With there being nothing of value here he could live safely. Looking up, he noticed there was a wrap-around balcony with other rooms. Gilbert searched for the stairs, found them and started to ascend. He gasped and shrieked when his foot went through the floor of the step, the wood having rotted away. Luckily he caught himself before he could fall and continued up the stairs. The second floor held only two other rooms, each one more disheveled and burnt than the other. Gilbert found one room to have more of a closed in structure with all the walls in tact save for a hole here or there. Sunlight shone through a large hole in the ceiling and Gilbert went to stand in the bright ray. He smiled, closed his eyes, and breathed in the sunlight. It was warm against his skin and for the first time he felt as if he belonged.

He laid the blanket in the corner by the broken stain glass window and placed the candle beside it. Now that he had a place to stay, finding other tossed items is vital. Once it grew dark and the moon was at its highest, he would sneak around the back allies of the rich people's houses and root through their trash. But for right now, he needed to rest. Fixing the blanket and taking out the flute, he laid down upon it on his belly, folding his arms under his head to use as a pillow. The flute was safely tucked in his arms. He faced the broken window to stare out at the blue sky littered with clouds. The sight was beautiful to behold, but the sudden rocking of his body accompanied by the coughing fit ruined the moment. He was forced to sit up and cup a hand over his mouth, his body wracking with the force of coughs. His lungs burned, his throat went raw and his mouth had gone dry. The coughing fit brought tears to his eyes, but not from pain but rather from the pressure. Gilbert shivered while pulling his coat tighter at the chest with his free hand to keep warm. But when he pulled his hand away, his pink eyes widened to see a tiny speckle of blood on his white palm. Gilbert knew the signs of 'the cough' for he had seen it before. He shouldn't fear it now because the drop was so little. It could also be from the strain the coughing had on his dry throat.

Gilbert frowned deeply as he turned to the broken window with the cross and angel. There was no room in his life for God, because in his eyes, God had forsaken him. God had made him this way, or perhaps God chose to toss him aside like the rest of the poor. At the workhouse he often had to stop work to say a group prayer at least twice a day. To him, every word that God said was a lie. If God cared about his children then why wouldn't he help them? Gilbert knew now that only he could help himself, that God had abandoned him and he was made to find his own way. So why did that realization make him feel so empty? Perhaps it was the loneliness he felt, having no one else to talk to but himself. The world was against him; they hated him because of how he looked. He had no friends, no companions and no lover. Oh how he had wanted a lover. Someone to suffer with him; someone to hold him on dark nights and offer the simple joy of companionship. To have someone to wake up with, a familiar face, a friend. Many times during the day while wandering the streets he would pass by couples, young and old. They would hold hands, stroll side by side, share an embrace and even kiss. Gilbert had no one to share his feelings with. No one wanted him. And why would they? He was an albino street rat whom the world feared, who branded him a monster and an abomination. You couldn't trust anyone in this world; for those who did often times would end up dead or betrayed. Sometimes it was better to be alone and although he knew the reality of that phrase, he still wished to have someone beside him.

But again, who would want him? Everything on him was thin from his skin to his body. Being away from the workhouse food had taken its toll on him for he could feel the beginnings of his ribs start to show. Without some more nourishment and clean liquids the illness within would eventually consume him. He had no body fat to help fight off the infection, or so he was told, by the workhouse doctor. So was this his future? Gilbert Beilschmidt was going to die in an old building drowning in his own blood. His only other option was a slum house, but he couldn't live in those. He did not want to infect other people, especially the elderly and children. It wasn't fair to them.

Once again he settled down onto the blanket, held the flute close to him and let his tears fall. He hated crying. He hated feeling so weak and helpless…and alone. Perhaps that is what scared him the most in this world, was being alone. He had seen so many horrors in his life, but they were so much a part of the city that Gilbert simply turned a blind eye to them. Yet when he lay down his weary body, those images and memories come flooding back. The ones that haunted him the most were of those that he had done; stealing, fighting and every so often, prostitution. Oh how he hated himself for selling his body to filthy men. On a daily basis men feared him, but when (and if) he promised sex, then his looks suddenly didn't matter. He only did it because the ache in his belly from hunger drove him to do such appalling things. Ever since the Master took his virginity and tossed him away, Gilbert had never looked at himself the same. Nothing on the streets had ever made him feel THAT dirty. But it was easy money…something he could do all the time and make a decent, comfortable living for himself. Yet he had too much pride and respect for himself to ever fall pray to the world of pleasure. The 'pleasure world' had its own horrors and codes of conduct.

Only once did he ever give his body over just for the feeling of wanting to be with someone. Hunger was always the driving force, but that night he had wanted to do it. It had been a week since leaving the workhouse and he had prostituted himself more times than he could remember. For whatever reason, Gilbert had not wanted to be alone that night so he sought out the arms of a stranger. He found the man resting against a lamppost, offered his services and they were quickly accepted. Gilbert could barely remember where they went, but it must have been the man's apartment or room. As his body lay on its back rocking against the bed, Gilbert wrapped his arms around the stranger to just savor the feeling of having another with him. It was a moment of weakness. He cried. He screamed in pleasure. He begged for more…and for the stranger to never leave. But once the man was finished, just like the others and the Master, Gilbert was turned out. He begged the man to let him stay; pleading with the stranger to let him share his bed and hold him in an embrace. The man seemed disgusted by the idea and kicked him away, screaming at Gilbert to leave this place and never come back. Ashamed, embarrassed and utterly disgusted, Gilbert ran from the building and back into the dark streets where he collapsed in the gutter.

Gilbert shivered at the memory. How could life be so cruel? Why was he and so many others made to suffer so? So many questions were left unanswered. Perhaps he would learn the answers when he died alone and missed by no one. With that thought in his mind, Gilbert finally let his illness and hunger drift him off into sleep. And maybe, just maybe, by the grace of God, he wouldn't wake up.

/

It was dark when he had awoken from his sleep. The city was quiet; everyone was asleep in their beds. Only the demons and the thieves were out right now…and soon so would he. Gilbert tucked his flute away inside his coat and left the church to begin the long walk to that rich person's house. The streets were bare and black, with not a soul walking upon them. Gilbert was the only one on the street tonight, it would seem. His stomach growled with the need for food, his lips and throat dry in need of water. While passing a building he saw a faucet that was dripping water. He threw himself under the drops with his mouth wide open to take in the trickle of water. He was in no real rush so he let his body rest and drink in the droplets. The water was stale and tasted of the piping, but it was wet and that's what mattered.

"Well, well, well, look at what we've got here!"

Gilbert scrambled to stand up as a voice was spoken. He came face to face with two police officers. Gilbert wondered what they were doing out so late at night? That was very unusual for the police to be patrolling the streets. He pressed his back against the wall and glanced at them before keeping his head lowered. Gilbert chose to stay silent unless he was spoken to. They may just be walking by.

"Where you headin' tonight, street rat? Off to steal from the good citizens of this city?" Asked the first police officer.

"N-No sir." Gilbert whispered, still keeping his eyes lowered to the ground. "I was just…out for a stroll."

"Yeah, right." Scoffed the second. "You probably gambled away whatever money you had and spent the rest on booze." The policeman elbowed the other. "No wonder the poor are poor, eh?"

Gilbert slowly lifted his eyes to them. "I don't do those things, sir. Just let me be on my way. I mean no harm." He had learned in the past not to mess with the authorities because they held all the power on these streets. As a young boy the police beat him numerous times for theft. He had even seen them kill in the past and if the victim was poor, then the government didn't care. The police were able to get away with anything so long as the person wasn't rich.

"Whoa, hold up there!" The first policeman used his nightstick to block Gilbert's exit. "We didn't say you could leave."

"But…I've done nothing wrong. I'm just walking. Please, let me go?"

The second guard moved closer to him, peering at his face with squinted eyes. "You a boy or a girl?"

"I'm a man." Gilbert answered.

"Women dress as men all the time." Said the first. "You wouldn't be lying to us, would you?"

Gilbert pressed his back harder against the wall. "I'm not lying, sir. I'm a man." He didn't like the smiles on their faces.

"Guess there's one way to find out!" The second policeman, being slightly larger, was able to hold Gilbert against the wall while the first fumbled with his pants. Gilbert struggled and thrashed in the man's hold, shouting at them to stop. He gasped and shivered in disgust as the man's gloved hand gripped his crotch painfully. But the policeman quickly pulled his hand away, shaking it as if he had touched something vile. "He IS a man!"

The man holding him let go. "Damn and he would have been a pretty girl, too."

Gilbert pulled his coat tightly around him, trying to shrink away inside its threads. "You've had your fun, now let me go."

"Wait, now." Said the first policeman. "We're still not done with you. And you've got some nerve trying to leave when a policeman is speaking to you. Do you know what happens to street rats who don't respect authority?"

The rumbling of thunder echoed in the sky above.

Gilbert knew what happens to those who 'disobey' the law and he made a break for it. But the second policeman grabbed him, tackling him to the sidewalk. Gilbert got the wind knocked out of him from the weight of the man and he tried to crawl away. The policeman got up off of him but he wasn't out of the dark yet. Gilbert cried out as a night stick came down on his back, followed by another blow, then another and then another, until he had curled up on the walk in pain. The policemen stood over him and laughed.

"Now THAT was entertainment!" Said the first one.

The second one placed his boot on Gilbert's ear, pressing his face further into the street like he was putting out a cigarette. "We're on the lookout for an escaped convict! I hope you don't run in to him for he just might cut out your insides and bathe in them!" He laughed, removing his foot and then delivering a swift kick to Gilbert's gut. "So you'd best stay inside tonight, street rat. There's a monster on the loose."

"Sleep tight!" Laughed the first policemen as they walked off, leaving Gilbert alone and trembling on the sidewalk. If he had been a woman he would have been raped and they would have gotten away with it.

"H-Help!" Gilbert wheezed out, holding his aching stomach, yet no one heard. Above him was an open window and as he looked up at it, someone closed it. His cry had fallen on deaf ears. Another crash of thunder forced him to forget his pain and to stand up. He had to get back to the church or else he'd be blinded by the rain and storm. Stumbling as he ran, Gilbert was lucky that he hadn't had made it far from the church. It came in full view soon enough just as the first shower of rain began to fall. His night was ruined now. There would be no food in his belly tonight. His body ached all over and the pain in his stomach wasn't going away.

Just as he sat back against the wall of his 'room', the first crash of lightening lit the room. Gilbert curled into himself, trying to block out the sound and wish away his pain. Something hard pressed against his knee, and he took out the flute to smile at it. He remembered the warm smiling face of Fredrick; remembered the sweet songs they would share; remembered the feeling of happiness and companionship they shared. Bringing it to his lips, Gilbert closed his eyes, took a breath and began to play. He played Fredrick's favorite song, a lullaby that was played to him by his mother. Gilbert liked to play it because the song brought him peace and for a little time he was happy. The flute helped to drown out the sounds of the thunderstorm raging outside. Not that he was scared of the thunder, but more so of the rough night he had just endured. There was no justice for the poor. Why was he still living if life was so cruel? Maybe he should just let himself waste away and join Fredrick in Heaven, or in Hell. Wherever it was the poor went when they died.

But soon, there came a third sound in the room. The first was thunder, the second was the flute, and the third was footsteps. Gilbert ceased playing the flute when he heard the footsteps trudging up the stairs. His blood ran cold. He had no weapon to defend himself. Someone was IN the church with him! Who could it be on a night like this? Was it someone seeking shelter? A dark form of a large man suddenly came into view, his body soaked from the rain. Gilbert's eyes widened as the man turned to face him. Both froze in their place. Gilbert's breathing increased as the man took a step closer to him.

"Wh-Who are you?" Gilbert asked, his voice trembling.

The man pulled out a knife, its silver blade shining against the flash of lightening. "Who are YOU?"

End Chapter 1 TBC


	2. Ivan's Story

_*******_**Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of medical torture, drug use**

*****Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.**

_**A man said to the universe:**_

"_**Sir, I exist!"**_

"_**However," replied the universe,**_

"_**The fact has not created in me**_

"_**A sense of obligation." –Stephen Crane**_

Chapter 2: Ivan's Story

He ran.

A wanted man on the run that had just escaped from the mental ward of the city's cruelest prison. His tired body darted through the trees of the woods. The towering maze of black trees in the dark made him dizzy, threatened to make him lose his way. But he had nowhere to go, he did not know where he was going. All he knew was his naked feet ached with the constant running on the forest floor. Branches bit at his skin, spider webs littered his hair and his feet bled. The sounds of the hounds were gaining on him and he knew the beasts would pick up the scent of his blood, so he could not rest. If the dogs were to catch him, they would tear him apart with their masters urging them on. He had come too far now to be taken down by a pack of wild beasts. He had escaped from the darkest of prisons; he could feel the wind on his face, see the stars above him and hopefully bask in the morning sun.

But still they barked and still he ran.

How had he become like this? When did his life take such a turn for the worst? Whatever happened to the earlier days of life…when he was happy?

Ivan Branginski was born to a poor farming couple who lived on the property of a Duke. They worked the fields, tended to the animals, kept up with the garden and saw that the walk was always swept. That was one of Ivan's jobs as a young boy; to sweep the walk, collect and wash the eggs and feed the animals. The work was hard and the hours were long. He and his parents were up at dawn and in bed at sunset. The hard labor never really bothered him for it helped to make him strong. The Duke enjoyed having Ivan as a worker, especially when he grew older; and taller. Ivan's tall stature and broad shoulders showed his life of heavy laboring. Visitors to the Duke were curious about his height for he towered over most. Many offered to buy him for their own, but the Duke never wanted to let him go. Ivan never cared about being put to work. In fact, he liked it. Sometimes the Duke called him inside to help move furniture or reposition a statue. When a tree fell in the courtyard, Ivan and his father labored all day sawing it in pieces and carrying it away. Ivan did the heaviest of the work because his father's age had begun to show and the work just wasn't as easy for the man as it once was.

Sixteen winters came and went with the same routine day in and day out. After a hard days work, he and his parents would sit around the tiny stone hearth with the fire burning bright. His mother would cook and his father would play his fiddle. Ivan loved when his father played the fiddle because it helped to brighten up the darkness of their hut. Ivan and his mother would sing along to the songs he would play and he grew up with a sweet singing voice that did not match his exterior. Once the Duke had even invited him and his father to perform at a party one autumn evening. Ivan sang while his father played. The company, a mix of lords and ladies, were delighted by their performance and gave a standing ovation. The magic of that night stuck in his head for soon it will have been his last happy memory. In the winter of his seventeenth year, his mother had fallen ill and was unable to work. All the illness was in her head and it made her act out strangely and say bizarre things. The Duke would not call for a physician, so his father had to go out into the city in hopes of finding one that would heal her out of good faith. They had very little money to their name, having been fully dependant on the care of the Duke to meet their needs. Ivan was left to do double the work in place of his father, while still trying to keep his mother grounded to the hut. When his father came back empty handed they knew it was over. There was no hope for her now. All they could do was continue on with their work and hope by the grace of God that she would get better.

Within the span of a week all hell had broken loose. One bright afternoon, a visitor was coming down the road to see the Duke in their steam automobile. As Ivan was carrying an armful of chopped firewood, he stopped to watch the automobile come bouncing down the road and nearing their hut. To his horror, from out of the hut, came his mother, running and screaming like a madwoman. When it happened, every part of him went numb. All the sounds disappeared from around him. It took a moment for his mind to register what actually occurred right before his eyes. His mother had run right in front of the automobile and the large body of steel accidently struck her down. The automobile bounced and jolted as the front right tires ran over most of her before coming to a halt. Her body lay twisted and bloodied under the automobile as the man driving it leapt out to scream 'oh my God' over and over again while holding his head. Ivan dropped all of the firewood at his feet once he had found the strength to move. Still in shock, he ran down the hill to the scene where the man shouted he was sorry and begged forgiveness. Ivan only ignored him, throwing himself onto his belly to gaze upon his broken mother under the automobile. Without a thought he pulled her out, her hips and legs twisted from the blow. The last thing he remembered was carrying her into the hut, and then everything after that was a blur. He never remembered his father coming home, them burying her, or the sympathies of the Duke. When the true reality of it finally hit him, Ivan ran into the woods behind the manor and screamed at the sky.

But when it rains, it pours. Shortly after the tragic death of his mother, word of the Duke's crime hit the newspapers. During one his many trips to the capital to see the king, the Duke had, apparently, raped one of the bastard daughters. The king, in his fury and anger, stripped the Duke of all his titles and lands. Which, in turn, meant that Ivan and his father had nowhere to go. The soldiers and government officials shut down the house, sending out all servants and farm hands alike. Ivan and his father had to take to the streets in search of other work. Jobs were scarce in the city, so they offered their services to the rich. No lord or lady in the city wanted their help and turned them away. In the end, the two men found jobs as bricklayers. The job did not last long, for shortly after obtaining it his father died from a lung infection, most likely due to the constant brick dust in the work area. And so this left Ivan to work on his own, all by himself. The pay was little, the food was slop and the hours were long. But still he worked; worked longer and harder than he ever had if only to keep his mind off of his extreme unhappiness.

The loneliness began to take its toll on him and every night Ivan found himself in a tavern drinking his pay away. He would sleep under a bridge once he was done and then set out for work in the morning. It was vicious cycle. The city life was much different from that of the countryside. After the automobile accident, Ivan grew uneasy and nervous around the steam machines. Even the sounds from their engines kept his mind running in a hundred directions and each one ended with his mother getting run over. He started to drink to help dull the memories and make sleep come easier to him. If he did not drink, then the sounds of the automobiles would keep him awake. Only the police were out patrolling at night in those machines but they were one too many. He wanted everything to be just the way it was, on the farm with his father playing the fiddle and his mother cooking in the hearth. But that was never to be.

One lonely night when his boss skipped out the pay (having no funds) Ivan wandered aimlessly on the dark streets. The night air chilled him, for his work shirt was growing thin from overuse. Even his pants were becoming worn thin with some holes here and there. He could have bought some new clothes by now, but the drinking was more important. Especially the vodka. He liked that vodka. Oh how he wished he had some now. An automobile suddenly puttered by and honked its horn, making Ivan grow stiff with fear. The frozen state lasted only a minute until the machine was out of sight and sound so he could continue on his way. He wasn't heading any place in particular; he was just walking. There was no booze to clear his head and make him numb, so all he had were his thoughts.

"Why so glum, big guy?" Came a strange voice to his right. Ivan turned to look down a dark alley where a group of five people, three men and two women, sat upon piles of debris. He wouldn't answer them. "Got some troubles, I'll bet?" The man was very thin, with a sunken in face and trembling hands. "We all got troubles here. All of us. You need to forget, eh? Come forget with us."

Ivan raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

One of the women, clothed in a dirtied striped dress, beckoned him over with her finger. "Come on, handsome! Don't be shy! Come sit and talk with us. Tell us your troubles."

It was then that Ivan noticed they were passing around a strange looking pipe. One of the men put it to his mouth, inhaled heavily and let out a breath. Ivan watched in curiosity, as the man appeared to fall limp against the wall, smiling and, weeping?

"What is wrong with him?" Ivan asked the first man.

"Oh, he is washing away his pain." The man smiled, his mouth full of dark holes where teeth should be. "He's forgetting. Don't you want to forget the pain too?"

Ivan's eyes widened at the man's words. Yes. Yes he did want to forget his pain and ease his worry. Another automobile went by and he shook in terror. The man noticed this, chuckled and wrapped his arm around Ivan's shoulder. "You need some of this stuff, friend. Come join us…it'll relax you."

So Ivan went with the man and joined the group. The smell of the 'stuff' wrinkled his nose and when the pipe was past to him, he held it between two fingers as if it were the most vile thing in the world. One of the women showed him how to properly hold it, mimicking the breathing motions needed to enjoy the drug fully. Ivan had no idea what it was when he took that first puff, (now he knew what it was) and it was not at all unpleasant. He coughed a bit but immediately felt the effects of the 'stuff' dull his senses. The others forced him to have more, which he did, until he was slumped against the wall just like all the others. His whole body felt loose, as if the air had been let out like a big balloon. He couldn't remember why he was here, or what he was doing. All he knew was that his body was numb, spots danced before his eyes and he was feeling GOOD.

Yet this 'opium', as it was called, was a nasty habit to get into. When he didn't have money to smoke it, he spent the coins on vodka. If there was a choice between the two, he always chose opium. Even the rich used it; they even held opium parties. Oh, how he wished he could go to one of those! He wondered if it would be like the party the Duke invited him to that night? As he learned the area over time, he knew where to go to get his fix. Some people died from opium overdose; he'd seen it many times happen right in front of him yet didn't care. He would have already been high by the time they died. They probably died of other complications as well. Soon he couldn't function without it. Ivan needed the opium to sleep and use it to wash away all his bad memories. The more he smoked it, the more he wanted it; craved it. Yet when it started to affect his work performance, Ivan found himself out of a job. While helping to move a wagon of bricks he grew so light headed that he'd lost control and the wagon tipped, breaking half of the bricks. That was when his boss screamed at him, cursed him and sent him on his way. Ivan was once again on the street searching for work, but like before, he was turned away. That didn't matter, though. During some opium gatherings he had learned to gamble and the earnings helped to pay for his addiction. Ivan continued to live under the bridge for when he was high, the smelly old stone and sewage water was paradise and it didn't bother him.

This had gone on for a month or so until his addiction grew to near dangerous levels. It was also the start of his new life in prison. While playing a game of poker in a slum tavern, Ivan accused one of the men of cheating. The man said he hadn't, but Ivan wasn't convinced. Right before the game, he had smoked a bit too much and his senses were less than accurate. (He would come to learn what happened later on in court) The man's denial enraged him so much that Ivan flipped the table, forcing all the cards into the air. Men jumped back, women screamed and other called for help. The man accused attacked Ivan, which was a big mistake. Ivan overpowered the man within a second, using his brute strength to snap the man's arm with a sickening crunch. But he wouldn't stop there. He grabbed the man by his hair, dragged him across the floor and repeatedly slammed the other's face into an ale barrel faucet. The protruding piece of wood easily made a bloodied dent in the man's head, which soon killed him. The people were still screaming around him, but the noise only made his bloodlust grow. Finished with the cheating man, Ivan let him collapse to the floor and turned to the onlookers. Now three policemen were yelling at him to stop. Ivan let out a drug induced roar and charged, forcing them to take out their nightsticks in defense. Ivan grabbed the first man by his head, gave a sharp twist and snapped the policeman's neck. The other two tried to back away with one loading a pistol. Ivan growled and grabbed the nightstick from the stunned man to whack it across the other's face. The policeman fumbling with his pistol was too terrified of Ivan beating the man to death with the nightstick to stay any longer. He dropped the pistol and all the ammo with it, turning tail to run.

Ivan never remembered glaring around the room, but it was told him that he did just that. He threatened and challenged anyone to come at him, screaming for some vodka or opium. What he could remember were thousands of hands upon him as he was dragged out kicking and screaming like a raging mad bull. When he had come to, he was in a dark, damp room. There were no lights save for a tiny, narrow slit in the wall, which was a window. The sun was shining through, its rays nearly blinding him as he looked towards the window. Where was he? What happened? When he tried to sit up, he found that his arms would not move. Looking down at himself, he saw he was dressed in one of those crazy people coats with large black buckles. Ivan tried not to panic as he flopped around on the floor like a large white grub worm. How did he get here? And why? Although the room was cold he was sweating and his veins felt as if they had ice in them. He needed some opium and he needed it NOW. The opium would calm him. The opium would help to keep his legs still and his mind numb.

The sound of footfalls on the floor outside filled him with terror. He didn't know why he was scared, (he would learn later it was from the drug) but Ivan feared who or what might come in that rusty iron door. The window door slid open and a pair of glasses peered in. Ivan scrambled to sit up but it was hard without the use of his hands. The door opened next with a loud echoing crank and Ivan felt himself shy away. A man in a white coat, followed by two more men clothed all in white, entered the small room to stand before him. Ivan's violet eyes darted frantically from each one, waiting to see who would make the first move.

"Good morning, Ivan. Do you know why you are here?"

Ivan licked his dry lips. "N-No, I don't. Let me go. Undo me. Please!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that." The man removed his glasses to wipe off a smudge. "My name is Doctor Arnold and I will be looking after you while you are here."

"W-Where is 'here'?" Ivan asked in a whisper.

"This is Black Horse Prison. You are in the mental ward of the prison cells."

'Mental?' Ivan repeated in his mind. 'I'm not crazy!' "Please, there's been a mistake! I'm not crazy!"

"We don't know what you are, Ivan." Replied Doctor Arnold. "Now, are you certain you do not remember anything of last night?" He glared. "How about when you viciously killed three innocent men?"

Ivan's eyes widened. "K-Killed? I would never kill anyone!"

"Hm. You have a sweet voice but there is nothing sweet about your condition! You are a menace to society! It is my duty to examine you and find out just why you acted out in a blind black rage." The doctor reached into his coat pocket, taking out a small vial and a needle.

Ivan's eyes were focused on the needle. "Is that opium?"

"Opium?" The doctor repeated in question. "Do you take opium often, Ivan?"

"Yes. Yes it makes me feel better. It makes the pain go away." He watched as the doctor filled the needle.

"And just what pain do you have, Ivan?"

"They are in my head."

The doctor smirked. "I see. They're in your head." He tapped the needle. "Tell me, do you hear voices in your head as well?"

"Voices? I…I hear the voice of my parents sometimes…and the Duke."

"Duke?" Doctor Arnold chuckled. "Very interesting."

"I'm not lying."

"Of course you aren't. You're also lying about killing those three men. Hold him down." He ordered the other two men.

Ivan tried to squirm away but the two men held him down. "I didn't kill anyone! If I did then I don't remember doing it and I'm sorry!"

"That won't help bring them back from the dead." The doctor knelt in front of him. "This will only hurt a bit. I suggest you don't move your neck."

Ivan closed his eyes, held down and completely helpless as the prick of the needle broke the skin. His eyelids grew heavy, his breathing slowed and his mind seemed to have disappeared. He fell into a long, dark sleep.

/

"Hello Ivan. How are you today?" Doctor Arnold smiled at Ivan, who was strapped to a chair in his office by his wrists and ankles.

Ivan could barely keep his head up to answer the doctor. "I don't feel good…and I want to leave."

"Well, I'm afraid you have to stay here until you are cured."

"When is that?"

"When you do everything we ask." He took out some paper and an ink pen. "Now then, I want you to answer all my questions truthfully. If you do this for me, then we'll give you a little more beef stew in your bowl tonight."

Ivan's stomach growled loudly at the promise of more food.

"Well then, shall we get started? First question I have is why are you afraid of automobiles? My workers say that you sometimes shout out in your sleep about running away from them…or they are too 'loud'. Care to explain that? Why are you so scared of automobiles?"

Ivan saw no reason not to answer, and there was that beef stew he was promised. "My mother was killed by one."

Doctor Arnold wrote it down. "Killed how?"

"She…ran into one. It hit her. She went under it. It chopped up her body…the wheels did."

"Why did she run into the road?"

"It was on the farm, on the Duke's farm. She had been ill that day and…and ran right out in front of it. I saw it all happen. I watched her body get twisted from the force of the tires."

"So ever since then you don't like them?" Ivan shook his head. "Well, that's not uncommon. People who have experienced some sort of trauma like that can develop fears associated with it. Although that doesn't explain why you killed three people."

Ivan clenched his fists against the armrests. "I told you…I don't remember doing it." He was told graphic details of his crimes and he just could not believe it. A few days ago, the families of the men he 'murdered' came to voice their hatred for him and beg for his death. During that time, Ivan had been put in a small holding cell to witness their hatred. One man, who was the brother of a victim, spat at him and prayed openly that God would let the Devil drag Ivan down to Hell. No matter how many times he softly apologized to the family members they would not listen to him or offer forgiveness. They cried out for his blood. He was relieved when it was all over and he was sent back to his holding cell.

"There must be a reason for that and it's my goal to find out why. I'll ask this again; do you remember ANYTHING from that night? What were you doing before that card game?"

Ivan, having spent so much time in the cell, alone with his thoughts, was finally able to gather up bits and pieces of that night, but nothing of the murders. "I was with friends…we were relaxing…sharing the opium…and then we decided to go to the tavern. I sat down to play cards like I always did. I think…someone was cheating. And I hate cheaters."

"That 'cheater' was one of the men you killed." He took out a folder. "We have some witness accounts here, telling of what they saw that night. They say you came stumbling in, muttering strange words with bloodshot eyes and shaking. You went mad during a card game. These are signs of addiction."

"Addiction?"

"Opium should be used for medical purposes, not physical enjoyment. You don't remember, but you've had numerous episodes here while your body tried to rid itself of the need for the drug. The opium clogged your judgment, yet that does not explain why you chose to murder three people. I've seen many cases of opium-addicted people and never have any shown any signs of such violence. This is why I have to study you." He smiled. "All that trouble is in your head and we're going to learn about it."

"I…I want to be let go. I don't want to stay here."

He gave a mock sigh. "You should have thought about that before going berserk. You're never going to leave this prison. This is your home now and this is where you will die."

/

'I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy!'

Ivan repeated over and over to himself as he rocked in the straight jacket, his knees fluttering and shaking. They had not let him out of this room for a couple of days and no one came to see him other than to slip in his food bowl and empty his chamber pot. He was fed only once a day and they had stopped giving him beef stew. Ivan did not know what it was, nor did he care. It could have been shit and piss for all knew but it helped to satisfy his hunger for a short time. With no use of his hands, he had to lap up and bite at the food like a dog. His mouth was crusted over with dried bits of the gruel from past days.

Alone with his thoughts and without opium to dull them, Ivan found himself thinking about his old life on the farm. Both the good and the bad. It helped him to get through the days of painful testing. The electric machine was the worst. The only time he screamed and cried was when they brought him to it. But they haven't come for some days now, leaving him alone in this room with nothing and no one to speak to. The only company Ivan had were the other patients he had never seen only heard. The man next to him constantly wept and sobbed, begging to get the 'rats and bugs' off of him. Another man did nothing but sing in moans and shrieks while throwing his body against the wall. The madman noises helped to keep his mind clear…but only for a little while. The solitude and extreme loneliness caused him to hear more voices in his head; voices calling him a 'murderer' and a 'maniac'. Sometimes he found himself talking back to them, but then the voices would make him angry. And when he got angry at them, he would rock his head against the wall to get them to stop. He would bang his head on the same spot until a small blood spot would appear and then he would cease. His throat was so parched one day that he pressed his tongue to the blood and lapped at it, just for a simple taste of liquid. The last time he had FELT a person touch him was when the men in white coats came to wrap something soft around his head. This prevented him from banging his head into the wall. All it really did was send him into a furious rage, which resulted in throwing his whole body against the stone walls. After that, he was poked with many needles until he fell limp and he's been limp ever since. Ivan had no energy at all. It was as if his whole body just shut down.

Until one day, the perfect opportunity arose for escape. The night before, Ivan had been injected with something. Whatever it was helped to bring him back to reality. However, it seemed that the doctor and his associates did not know that it brought him back to his senses and this Ivan used to his advantage. The full planning of it is still a blur to him now, but at the time everything had worked out perfectly. He pretended to be drugged and limp, just waiting for the straight jacket to removed. Once he was free of all things 'white', Ivan slammed his head into the other's face, knocking him to the floor. The other man had little time to react before Ivan sent him flying into an iron door. Ivan then created a distraction, which was letting all of the mentally ill men out from their holdings to wander freely. As the guards and workers rushed in to try and stop all of them, Ivan used this chance to escape. He was the only one still 'sane' in that ward, so it was easy for him to escape.

Now he was running away from the dogs, still exhausted and shaking with fright. He needed to hide. Someplace where the dogs would lose his scent. That was the only chance he had to make it out of this alive. And so he ran; ran until he could see the faint glow of city lights. He nearly cried tears of joy when the city came into view. Ivan stopped atop a hill to look at the lights, trying to find the safest and quickest way to get down. Instead, he heard a loud dripping sound and spelt something foul. Squinting in the dark, he saw a large sewage drainage pipe to his right. This was his best chance at losing the dogs. He slid down the hill, ran towards the pipe and then slipped into something like mud. It came up to his waist, but it wasn't mud. It was indeed sewage from the city. The barking of dogs reminded him why he was here and trudging through the shit and garbage, he climbed up inside the pipe to hide. It was big enough for him to sit in, yet his knees were up to his chest. The smell of the sewage would mask his scent and the dogs would lose track.

It had worked. The men had left and Ivan was free now to rest. And rest he did. When he finally came to, he had lost all track of time. It was the afternoon judging by the height of the sun and the heat. He climbed out of the pipe, dropped back into the sewage pool and returned to dry land. He had to do something about his sewage-covered body, though. Where there was a drainage pipe there was a stream or lake somewhere. Ivan searched the area and came up a babbling brook. It was not for the drainage, but it was much better! He stripped himself of the clothes and washed his body, enjoying the cool feel on his aching feet. Ivan carefully cleaned out the cuts on his feet, and while he let his body dry he kept them in the running water. It would help to clear out any germs. But he couldn't stay idle for long. He tried to wash his shirt and pants of the sludge but they barely came clean. At least they didn't smell as bad now. He put them back on and followed the stream up a little ways to where the water cascaded over a couple of rocks. Cupping his hands, Ivan drank up the fresh cool water until his stomach felt like it would pop. As he was running the water through his hair, he heard the sound of buzzing. Bees? Ivan went to investigate the cause of the buzzing. Among some bushes was a swarm of fat black flies and a very foul stench. Ivan covered his nose while walking over to the bushes, peering around them to behold a dead body.

The body had been there for a couple of days and the flies had already made their home within it. Ivan didn't care about the dead man on the ground. What he saw was the man's clothes, still intact. Ivan stripped him down to his bare body, pasty white and bloated with gas. He changed from his prison clothes into the dead man's shirt, pants, shoes, and coat. They smelled of rotting corpse, but in a few days the smell would fade. Anything was better than the smell of sewage and garbage. Now that he was properly clothed, Ivan began to make his way to the city. Once again he was free, but freedom did not mean that life was going to be easy now. Ivan knew many challenges awaited him in the city. He was an escaped convict now. No one would hire him. He would have to find another way to make a living.

/

A day of begging earned him a gold coin, which bought him half a loaf of bread. The second day of begging earned him nothing. The third day was theft; he stole an apple from a merchant. But as he was munching on the apple, a printed paper pasted to a lamp post stopped him dead in his tracks. On the paper was his portrait, his PRISON portrait. Ivan could read, his mother had taught him, so he was able to make out the words on the paper.

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE!

IVAN BRAGINSKI- MASS MURDERER!

CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS!

ALERT CITY POLICE IMMEDALTY IF SPOTTED!

AWARD: 1,OOO GOLD!

'Oh no…' There was no hope of him finding work now! If these posters are all over the city then everyone will recognize his face! People will turn in their own mothers and children at the promise of money! Ivan had to duck away into an ally to keep himself hidden from the crowd until he could figure out what to do. He had to disguise himself, but how? He could disfigure his face. It would all be worth it so long as he did not end up back in prison. However, if he disfigured his face, finding work will prove twice as difficult. His only option then would be a freak show, or stick to begging on the street.

'Maybe I can hide my face? I can cover it. Hm…that could work.' Ivan tapped his chin in thought. A mask would work, but how would he come by one? Building off the idea of facial disfigurement, Ivan came up with a solution. At the prison mental ward, he saw a few patients bandaged up due to disease or self-harm. Ivan decided he would wrap his face up in bandages, or any cloth he could find and pass himself off a syphilis sufferer. If people saw him they would stay away in fear of contracting it.

He spent the rest of the day rooting through trash bins and searching the streets for clothing long enough to wrap around his face. Eventually he came across an old linen shawl covered in dirt with some holes. It would do the job. Ivan ripped it apart in long pieces and tied them together, making one long make-shift bandage. Using a foggy green puddle of water as a mirror, he started to tie the cloth around his face, keeping free his mouth, eyes, and nostrils. The fabric was itchy against his face, but at least now he won't be recognized. While searching through the trash he found a sharp steak knife and an old pipe, both of which he chose to keep for protection.

"Perfect."

Yet when it rains, it pours. Ivan woke up to the sound of rumbling thunder from his place under an abandoned wagon. He knew he would have to find better shelter than this old wagon. It was hard to see in the heavy rain as he ran down dark streets, trying to spot a place to hide. The soft sound of music fluttered in his ears between the cracks of lightning and thunder. Where was it coming from? Ivan followed it to an old burnt church. That's where the music was coming from. A loud crash and flashing purple light made him yelp and run to the church. It would prove a decent place to hide and to take shelter from the storm. But who was playing that music? It stopped when he entered. Ivan looked around at the broken church, seeing no one and hearing only the sound of rain. He saw some steps and climbed them, being mindful of the weak wood beneath his feet. Judging by that hole in the step someone had already been here. It could have been today or a long time ago. But whatever the reason, Ivan was certain someone was here. If he was alone, then he would assume it was ghost.

As he stepped onto the top floor and entered a room, he saw someone crouched in the far corner by a broken window.

"Wh-who are you?" The person asked, their voice trembling.

'That person…they're all white…white like a ghost!' "Who are YOU?" He pulled out his steak knife, letting the person see that he was baring a weapon. 'Ghost or man, come near me and I will kill you.'

End Chapter 2


	3. New Friends

*****Warnings: Language, violence, disturbing scenes**

*****Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.**

'_**Remember me as you pass by;**_

_**As you are now, so once was I;**_

_**As I am now, you soon will be;**_

_**Prepare for death, and follow me.'- an old epitaph**_

Chapter 3

"Are you a ghost?" Asked Ivan.

"No." Gilbert replied in a hushed voice. "Are you a demon?"

Ivan slowly shook his head. "Do you live here?"

"I do. Please, I have nothing for you to take! So please, just go away!" Gilbert pressed his back even harder against the wall as if trying to melt into it. He had learned that in this world you could not trust a soul. This man was still concealed by the darkness of the room, dressed as if he were Death himself. Perhaps he was. With a flash of lightening Gilbert was able to catch a glimpse of the man, seeing that his face was covered in bandages.

"I don't want to harm you…so don't give me a reason too. I want shelter from the storm, nothing else. I guess I should properly ask to share this residence with you until the storm clears?" Ivan moved closer so the other could see he still had his blade. "I'm sure you have no problem with that, right?"

Gilbert shook his head violently. "J-Just sleep over there!" He watched the man walk over to the opposite side of the wall and sit down with his legs straight out.

Both men sat in utter silence as the storm continued to rage and howl outside. They refused to take their eyes of the other, waiting for any sudden moves that could result in a conflict. During this time they silently examined each other, trying to uncover the others' motives and guess what kind of men they are.

Gilbert could barely trust anyone, much less a stranger who wandered in from the storm. The stranger did not appear to be homeless because his body held a solid build. It could be from multiple layers of clothing under the coat. The only way to find out would be to see for himself, but Gilbert didn't care enough to take the chance. The bandages covering his face were strange and Gilbert had to wonder if other parts of the body were covered as well? Back in the workhouse, there were some people who had to stay wrapped in bandages because of some sort of skin disease. Then there was that knife, which the stranger proudly displayed on his thigh. Probably as a reminder to keep the distance between them. On the other hand, Gilbert pondered, he may just be a struggler on the street the same as he. Gilbert has his own weapon for defense, so why wouldn't another street dweller use it for protection as well? This stranger was company in an eerie sort of way; and if they were going to share this church then they should at least know each other's names. Gilbert found his voice and spoke loudly over the thunder.

"My name is Gilbert! What's yours?"

The other tilted his head and eyes in Gilbert's direction. "What's it matter to you?"

"Just friendly conversation!" A bolt of lightning briefly startled him. "What's your name?"

The stranger was silent for a moment and then answered: "Vanya. My name is Vanya."

"Vanya? That's a strange name for a man! Are you a woman?"

"I'm a man. Vanya is…a nickname. I've forgotten my real name."

"That's a shame! Well then, I'll call you Vanya!"

Ivan chose to give the man Gilbert a nickname because of the wanted posters all over the city. He feared if this man knew who he was then it could spell trouble for him, and it would be back to the mental prison ward. The thought of going back there sent a tremor through his body. This man Gilbert appeared friendly enough, but trusting him as they stand now is not an option. To Ivan, Gilbert still held the appearance of a ghost with, if he was not mistaken, red eyes? Ivan had to squint at the other with the next flash of lightening yet still was not sure of the color. Maybe this person wasn't really a man but some sort of spiritual entity? Perhaps this ghost man will disappear within a flash of lightening. Or it was possible Gilbert could be sick. The man looked thin and frail, with skin the color of pale tainted marble. Dark circles curled under the eyes while the bits of hair poking out from under the hat seemed…white? That couldn't be.

"Vanya, can I ask you something? Are you living on the streets like me?"

Ivan hesitated for a moment. "Yes. Are you?"

"Yup. Ever since I left the workhouse. Couldn't stand it there any longer. I had to leave."

"Is this better then?"

"Shittin' bricks."

Ivan laughed. "Now it's my turn to ask you something. Are you a ghost?"

"I'm not a ghost! I'm a man! What makes you think I'm a ghost? And how about all those damn bandages, buddy? Huh?"

Ivan blinked. "You simply look…odd. I think your eyes are red…and your skin is so pale."

"I'm an albino." He said with disdain. "A doctor at the workhouse said it was something I was born with. I don't have something in my body to give me…a tan? And my eyes are pink, not red. I've always looked like this, but I sure as Hell am not a ghost! Now spill about those bandages! Should I be worried about catching what you have?"

Ivan smiled. "It's syphilis. Unless you wish to sleep with me you should be safe."

"Waste all your money in whore houses, huh?" Gilbert smirked.

"Yes. Booze, women, and- " he couldn't bring himself to say 'opium'. "and gambling. I have to keep my skin covered for obvious reasons. My face is…not pretty."

Gilbert stuck his tongue out between his teeth. "Ick. That's rough. So what are your plans after the storm stops? Got anywhere to go?"

"No. Just moving." Ivan replied. "You?"

"Hoping for my next meal." Gilbert showed him his flute. "Mind if I play?"

Ivan shook his head. Gilbert began to play.

Ivan recognized the melody after the fourth note, the familiarity of it bringing a smile to his lips. It was one of the songs his father always played on the fiddle; the one he and his mother would sing to. Never had he heard it played by another instrument yet the tune was just as lyrical. Ivan began to sing in a whisper, his voice slowly reaching higher as he grew more comfortable in front of Gilbert. His eyes met Gilbert's for a moment when the other heard his singing and smiled over the mouth of the flute. Ivan moved his hand in time with the music, feeling himself slipping back in time to simpler memories of when he was truly happy. When the song had come to an end, Gilbert laid the flute in his lap and clapped.

"Vanya, you have a great singing voice!"

"And you play beautifully. Just like my father. He played the fiddle…and that was his favorite song."

"Ah. I never had a family. My parents kicked me out when I was a boy."

"Hm. That is a shame. Mind if I ask where you got that flute? It must mean a great deal to you if you haven't sold it yet to fill your belly." Gilbert looked down at the flute sadly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything that would upset you."

"No, it's okay. It was a gift given to me by a friend in the workhouse. He was an older guy…like a father to me, really. A father I never had. He taught me how to play." Gilbert forced himself to smile. "He got sick and died. He told me to hang on to this for him."

"I'm sorry for your loss. My father died a little while ago too…but we had to sell his fiddle before that. It was nice to hear that song again, though. Do you ever play it on the streets for money?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I'm afraid someone will take it. I'm all alone out there and…and the world is a dark, cruel place."

"I'm well aware of that." Ivan answered. "The world has not been kind to either of us, it would seem."

"Yeah." Gilbert looked out the broken window. "Looks like the storm is ending. I can finally get some sleep." He lay down on the floor and covered himself with the blanket. Gilbert was uncertain if he were going to fall asleep due to Vanya being here. While the man had a sweet singing voice he was still a stranger who could not be fully trusted. Still, Gilbert liked the company. Maybe if he offered a little more kindness to the stranger, then perhaps he would no longer have to fear him. Gilbert knew that he himself responded VERY positively to kindness. "Hey Vanya? You want to run with me tomorrow?"

Ivan looked over at the other. "Run with you?"

"Yeah. Maybe with the both of us…we could do a little street show. You know, I play and you sing. I won't feel so open if I have someone with me. You want to?"

"I…I don't know. I'll have to think about it. Goodnight for now, Gilbert."

"Okay. Night Vanya."

Ivan remained propped up against the wall as he watched the albino man Gilbert cover himself with a blanket. Gilbert had asked if he would like to join him on the streets. Ivan's first thought is that it would be too dangerous for him and feared he may get caught. On the other hand, living on the streets was no easy task and to do it alone had its own dark challenges. There was safety in numbers, although the body of Gilbert looked as if a gust of wind could blow him over. Gilbert wouldn't prove to be much of a help in a brawl. Of course, Ivan had never seen him in action, nor had he ever heard of an 'albino'. Maybe albinos were fast? Strong? What else did he have to do? Gilbert, if they got along, would be company for him. Too long had he been locked up in that room, completely bound, with nothing other than the beating of his own heart and the images in his mind. Perhaps human companionship would do him some good. Closing his eyes in hopes to get some sleep, Ivan decided that he would 'run' with Gilbert. At least for a little while.

The next morning, the storm had stopped but the sky was still cloudy and gray. Gilbert woke up because of a slight burning his chest. He sat up and stuck his hand inside his coat to rub the center of his chest, wishing that he could just rip the skin open and rub the ache beneath it. Not only did the burning bother him, but also the ache of starvation in his belly was equally as bad. He hoped the pain in his chest would go away soon so he could begin his hunt of garbage cans. When his eyes caught side of a large body curled up asleep opposite of him, Gilbert remembered that he had someone staying here. Vanya, his name was. He would have gone over to shake him awake, but Vanya still had that blade out where it could be seen. Gilbert feared if he startled the man, he may accidently knife him in defense. Instead, Gilbert called over to him and then winced, because it momentarily intensified the ache in his chest. "Ow…" he hissed. But luckily, Vanya heard him on the first call and the man jumped awake.

"Hm? What?" Ivan sat up quickly, holding out the blade.

"Whoa, take it easy. It's just me, Gilbert."

Ivan looked over at him and put the blade away. "I'm sorry. It's a reflex."

Gilbert smirked. "No problem. I'd probably do the same." Now that the ache in his chest had subsided, Gilbert tossed off the blanket and stood. "So, did you give my offer any thought? Want to run with the albino?"

"I have thought about it…and I decided that I will stay with you. I really have nowhere else to go…and it's better to be with a companion than all by yourself."

"Exactly my point!" He held out his hand. "So what do you say, Vanya? Shall we go and dig for our breakfast?"

Ivan took his hand and stood up. "Maybe we'll get a lucky break and not have to dig for food?"

"Don't count on it."

/

After leaving the church, Gilbert showed Ivan the house with the best waste cans behind it. Ivan had never, ever eaten anything from a trash bin, so he watched Gilbert intently as the thin man went ass-up into one. He saw Gilbert pull something from the trash bin, which appeared to be some sort of meat bone. From what he could tell, there was very little meat on it, and Gilbert had to brush away a few flies before tearing off what meat was left. The sight was disgusting, but just like his companion he too was starving. Ivan figured it might be better to steal, but then again, should he be caught…

"Vanya! Here, I found something for you!" Gilbert walked over to him with a half-eaten loaf of stale bread. "These people are so wasteful!" He broke the bread in half with a grunt and offered the piece to Ivan. "Here, have it."

Ivan took it, examined it and decided to listen to his growling stomach. He brought it to his mouth and took a bite with his back teeth. It wasn't horrendous; at least his body didn't think so as his mouth gobbled the rest of it down. He looked at Gilbert trying to gnaw at the stale bread, which he seemed to have some trouble doing. Ivan noticed that when Gilbert took the bread away, there was a bit of light pink blood on the white bread and the man was rubbing at his cheek. Ivan tilted his head to the side, curious, as to why there was blood on the bread. That's when he realized it was coming from Gilbert's teeth; the bread was too hard for him to bite and tear at.

"Gilbert, try to break tiny pieces off instead."

"But I'm hungry, Vanya!"

"I know, but it's not worth you losing your teeth over! Here, let me try." Ivan took the bread and ripped a few pieces off. "Here," he gave him a piece "Try to make it soft with your spit. It will be easier to chew, then."

Gilbert popped the piece in his mouth and did as Ivan suggested. It hadn't helped much, since he was lacking saliva, but nonetheless he was able to swallow the bread without much chewing. He stuffed the rest of the bread inside his coat, knowing that they must be moving on before the rich people's servants found them back here. Gilbert tried one more time in the last trash bin for something editable; and found a half-eaten brown apple, which he ate. He regretted it because he didn't offer the fruit to Vanya. Although in Gilbert's defense, Vanya wasn't searching through the trash with him either. So it was his loss. Gilbert munched the rest of the apple and spit out the seeds.

"Come on, we're done here. We have to leave or we might get caught. The worse they'll do is chase us away with brooms."

Ivan chuckled. "Well, we can't have that now can we?"

"Nope. Now follow me." Gilbert took his hand and led him out from behind the house, searching the streets for any signs of trouble. They found it when Gilbert spotted the police wagon pulling up to a newsstand. Gilbert gasped. "Come on, we have to leave this area before the police spot us!"

Ivan gasped. He didn't need to be told twice to run away from the police, so he let Gilbert guide him through the city streets. "Where are we going?"

"Out of this area!" Gilbert said, nearly out of breath. "The policemen like to chase us out or beat us because we're homeless and poor! No one will stand up for us or protect us. We need to get to the other side of town!"

Once they were far enough away from the police, the two men slowed to a steady, face-paced walk as they exited the safe part of the city. Now they had entered the slums. Ivan had never been to a place like this before; it stunk. He had to cover his nose to mask the horrid smell, which didn't seem to affect Gilbert in the slightest. They stepped over dead animals, sewage and trash. Street dwellers lined the building walls; some slumped, others drunk and some of the women offered their 'services'. Ivan had to ask where they were going.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To a merchant. I want to sell this bread."

Ivan glanced at him. "Why would anyone buy stale bread?"

Gilbert spun on his heels to face him, hands on his hips. "Really? You're asking that question? Look around you, Vanya! These people are starving and suffering too. They'll give anything for a simple bite to eat."

Ivan did take a second to look around their immediate area. There was a group of young children, boys mostly, dressed in tattered and torn clothes. Their faces were so caked with grime and dirt that they looked more like moving bouts of coal than children. They stared back at him, with hollow cheeks and mournful expressions. But someone came out from a shack, an elderly man, and swung at them with a rake while shouting for them to leave his stoop. The children ran out of sight. There was a man who came out from an alley with a tiny push wagon full of junk. He passed a young woman clutching a crying baby.

Ivan turned back to Gilbert and for the first time was able to view those pink eyes in the light. They were indeed different, even more so from his own, which were violet. His mother would always keep a small vase of wild violets on their dinner table because of his eyes. He doubted that Gilbert was able to recall such a tender memory; if he even had any to recall.

"I see what you mean. I'm sorry, Gilbert. I…I was a bricklayer not too long ago when I got this disease and I was used to having a very basic income. I could buy bread and water. This way of life…I'm not used to living yet."

"I'll have to teach you and I pray you learn fast, Vanya. If you don't learn how to survive on these streets…then they will eat you up."

"That's right, they will." Purred a sleazy, icy-cold voice from behind.

Ivan turned to see a man dressed in a gray waistcoat holding a twisted cane and wearing a tattered top hat. Ivan disliked him immediately. He had the look and stench of a weasel. Ivan slipped his hand into his coat, prepared to draw his blade should the man try to attack them.

"Frankie." Gilbert said the man's name with disgust. "Coming out of your rat hole early today?"

Ivan turned to Gilbert. "You know this man?"

Frankie chuckled, snapped his fingers and was joined seconds later by two women, their faces heavily painted up. They clung to him and smiled at them. One looked at Gilbert with a wink.

"Hello again, Gilbie!"

Gilbert looked away from her. "Daisy."

"Who's yer new friend, Gil?" Asked the second. "He sure looks funny!"

Ivan looked at Gilbert to answer for him.

"This is my friend, Vanya. He doesn't want to be your whore either, so we'll just be on our way."

Frankie gave a whistle, as he looked Ivan up and down. "You're a big fella! What's with the bandages, love? Got some boo-boos?" The women giggled.

"Syphilis." Gilbert answered for him. "It's rotting away his flesh. No one wants to fuck him, trust me."

"Hm, I see." Frankie smiled at Ivan but his friendly gesture was met with a stone cold glare. "You'd make a great body guard for my girls, Vanya. They need a tough, strong man around to keep away the customers when they are too rough with them. And you and Gilbert can work together!" Frankie looked at Gilbert and licked his lips. "Perhaps, Vanya, you can talk some sense into your friend to get him to join us. He doesn't have to suffer on these streets! He can have a coin or two every day just for that strange coloring of his! I tell him, all the time, does he really want to die in these streets with a mouth full of shit and the flies eating away his eyes?"

Gilbert growled. "That's enough! I already said 'no' to you and I will say it a thousand times over! Come on, Vanya! We're outta here!"

Frankie shoved the girls off him and swiftly stormed over to Gilbert, catching him painfully by the arm.

Ivan stood there, afraid to react knowing how dangerous his situation was. He couldn't stir up any trouble that might attract attention. And it didn't help that the wanted poster with his face on it was pasted to the wall behind the two. Even as the man named Frankie was manhandling Gilbert, who shouted for him to stop. Still, Ivan stood there, gazing upon his portrait on that poster.

"VANYA!"

Gilbert's voice broke his stare, which brought him back to the current situation at hand. The man Frankie had a sinister smirk on his face as he held Gilbert's arms while the albino struggled with all his might. Ivan knew then that Gilbert was too weak and sick to properly defend himself and he couldn't stand by and allow this to happen; especially when Gilbert was pleading for help with those suddenly fearful pink eyes. Ivan narrowed his own purple, stormed over to the man, grabbed his wrist and squeezed it painfully. Frankie let out a cry of pain as his fingers instantly let go of Gilbert's arms. Ivan quickly grabbed the other wrist and squeezed them both. Frankie hissed and tried to pull away. The girls ran back inside to escape the confrontation.

"Leave Gilbert alone!" Ivan said dangerously. "Bother us again like this and I will slit your filthy throat!" He shoved the man away, making him lose his balance and fall into the wall. Frankie slid down the wall with a shout of pain, holding his right shoulder. Ivan spat on him and turned to Gilbert. "Let's go."

Gilbert looked from the fallen Frankie to Vanya, surprised by the sudden show of valor from his companion. Vanya was able to overpower Frankie with just his hands alone! The man was strong as he was big. Vanya took his hand and began leading him away from the scene, but the grip was very gentle for such large hands. Vanya's hands were rough and calloused, proof that he was indeed a bricklayer. He was right in asking Vanya to run with him! His life on the streets seemed a little safer now that he had Vanya by his side!

"Thank you, Vanya! You really helped me out back there."

"I didn't like how he was handling you. Come, we'll rest here a moment." Ivan pulled them into a narrow alley way, where they rest their backs on opposite sides of the walls. "Are you alright?"

Gilbert smirked. "Yup! I would have been able to fight him off but I'm a little…sicker today. Not sick like you but…" he pats his chest "I got 'the cough'. Got it from the workhouse."

"The cough?" Ivan never heard it called that before. He knew immediately which sickness Gilbert meant, though. The men at the hospital housed some 'consumption' patients, or so he had heard. "I heard that can be deadly."

Gilbert slumped his shoulders and crossed his arms, suddenly appearing even smaller than he was. "Yeah, it is. It's not so bad right now but…it'll get worse." He gave a dark chuckle. "You know, sometimes I can't fall asleep because I picture my own corpse laying in one of these allies with a puddle of blood around my mouth. And I think…what would someone say if they passed by my corpse? I know that they would say nothing and just walk right by, as if I were just part of the street. Would anyone even say a prayer?"

Ivan folded his hands to rest them behind his back. "Probably not. The people passing by you are too busy reminding themselves that it will be them soon in your position. It frightens them. It frightens anyone, really."

Gilbert stared at him, narrowing his eyes slightly in thought. Vanya sounded, well, smart, for a simple bricklayer. But his words struck a nerve. "You're right. Whenever I see a dead body, I think, 'that soon will be me'. All because my parents didn't want me, the world hates me and my body betrayed me."

Ivan looked down at the dirty street beneath his feet. "The world hates me too."

"But like me, you're too stubborn to just roll over and die, right?" Another big grin.

Ivan smiled softly. "Guilty as charged. I will stay alive for as long as I can, even if all odds are against me. I could sell myself for science, but that, I feel, is giving up."

Gilbert nodded. "I understand. I don't have to be sick and starving like I am now. I could sell my body for money, save up for food and medicine and maybe even sleep in a real bed. Or I could join the circus and travel with them. I'd have food, shelter, a 'family'…"

"But?"

"But becoming a whore has far too many risks and I know I'll learn to hate myself. If I join the circus, I'd be put in the freak show because of my albino features. Either way, people would pay to use me and laugh at me all the same." He clenched his hands. "I'm not a whore and I'm not a 'freak' either! I'm just a man! I didn't ask to be born into this life!"

"No one does, but that's just the way things are." Ivan looked back up at him. "You're shaking…and you look guilty. Why? Have you attempted to whore yourself or join the circus? If you have, then you shouldn't feel guilty about it. Hardship will make anyone rethink their options."

Gilbert gulped. He might as well tell SOMEBODY about himself before he keels over and dies. Vanya would at least remember him more than anyone else. If only Fredrick were still here. "I…I have. Whored myself, I mean. Only when…when I was very hungry and…very lonely." He whispered the last part. "I avoid the circus at all costs but…sometimes I just…I NEED the comfort of another human being. I can't afford a woman, so I must offer myself to a man so that I can feel love for a short couple of hours." He clutched at his head. "Sometimes I go mad when they throw me out. Sometimes I get mistaken for a woman and groped all the time! And no one ever, ever helps me."

Ivan understood the need for human companionship when you were all alone in a world that was against you. When he was locked up in the dark, all alone, with only himself for company, he would often panic and go mad. Although the doctors were cruel and evil, just hearing their voices as they passed by his cell excited him; just for that quick bout of human speech. So he could understand Gilbert's need to lay with another. And then, Ivan felt the familiar stirring of lust between his legs as his eyes focused on the slightly shivering Gilbert, whom appeared too lost in thought to notice. Ivan had gone without for quite some time and here was a man eager for human companionship in its most romantic form. Ivan hated himself for thinking such thoughts about Gilbert when the man just poured out half of his heart. Still, Ivan's eyes remained focused on the albino's clothed torso, wondering what the rest of him looked like. Gilbert was probably very thin and boney, but Ivan bet his skin was just as pale and soft as his hands. Ivan was in need of humanly comfort as well, but he would never push Gilbert to do something he didn't want; especially since they just met. Gilbert probably wouldn't want to have sex with him anyway since he has 'syphilis'. Keeping himself out of the city mental ward was more important that satisfying his lust.

'Shameful thoughts all together.' Ivan said to himself. 'Wipe them from your head!'

"Um…I guess we should be going." Gilbert spoke softly, peeking around the building to see if the coast was clear. "I want to get to that merchant before he packs up."

"Oh, yes." Ivan cleared his throat. "Lead the way."

Gilbert waved him on to follow and they left the ally to continue on down the city streets. They ignored all of the strange looks from the people littering the streets, but neither one seemed to care. Gilbert was intent on finding the said merchant and Ivan hoped for some money to buy them an edible dinner. Ivan doubted this merchant could pay them much for some stale bread, but a simple silver coin would by a FRESH piece of bread. The further they went the more crowded the streets became with single merchants selling everything from broken pottery to ripped baskets and old meat. Gilbert found the merchant, pointed to him and then dragged Ivan over to the stand.

"Good morning, Gilbert!" Said the merchant, smiling with a mouth that barely had any teeth left. The man hadn't shaved his thick black beard for some time, nor did he clean it, for there were crumbs and grime stuck to the hairs. "Got anything good today?"

Gilbert grinned himself and took out the stale bread. "Some stale bread. Put it in that stone fire thing of yours and make it soft!"

"Yes! Give it here! I will give you a silver coin for it." Gilbert handed him the bread and the merchant paid with the silver coin. "Hey, who's your friend?"

"Oh, this is Vanya. He's hanging out with me for a little bit." Gilbert tapped at Vanya's cheek. "He's got some bad syphilis."

The man looked surprised. "No kidding? I got that too! Big fancy word for ugly skin."

Gilbert was too busy looking at the coin then to properly respond. "Yeah. Thanks for the coin! Enjoy the bread!" Gilbert pulled Vanya away and held the coin out in front of them. "He's a sly one, that guy. He'll warm up that stale old bread, cut it up smaller, and sell each slice for this silver right here. He makes double the profit." Gilbert smacked his lips. "We can split some fresh bread now! Let's go back to the good part of town and get some!"

Ivan folded Gilbert's fingers around the coin. "No, it's your silver coin. You earned it, so you buy the bread and fill your belly. I can go another day without food."

Gilbert looked at his closed palm and then shook his head. "I can't do that. You helped keep me safe from Frankie and we'll be together for a while, so that makes us pals. We split whatever profits we make! Whatever money we get from performing we split equally the earnings. I think that's fair, don't you?"

Ivan smiled softly at him. If Gilbert truly thought that nobly after all he's been through, then the laws of life would see him dead before the winter. Attitudes like that invited Death to lurk over your shoulder. But how could he deny Gilbert's kindness? Ivan hadn't been shown kindness in a very long time. "Yes, that is fair. Let's go and get that warm bread. And then, if you are feeling up to it, we can start our performance?"

Gilbert grinned. "Yes! Yes, the sooner the better!" he frowned then. "We need a name."

" 'The Hopeful Duo'." Ivan suggested. "Because, despite all our troubles, we are still strong and hopeful. I know many songs about strength, hope, honor and love."

"Then maybe we should practice the tunes first." Gilbert suggested. "You hum the tunes so I can learn them on the flute. That way, we don't look like crazed street dancers!"

Ivan wrapped his arm around Gilbert's narrow, thin shoulders. "Agreed, friend." The word 'friend' just slipped out and Ivan was thankful for the bandages hiding his blush.

Gilbert blinked up at him for a moment, and then smiled back. "You called me 'friend'. Yeah! Yeah, I like that! We're friends! Friends 'til the end!"

"Till the end."

With their bond of newfound friendship, the dark clouds had finally broke to let sunshine pass though. The dark day had suddenly become brighter.

End Chapter 3 TBC


	4. Pestilence and Famine

_***A bit late with an update, but I'm writing another story as well, so I'm alternating updates. Special thanks to my beta for her hard work! And I'm going to try to give all these chapters titles, too._

_***Warnings: Language, angst_

_***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic._

_"__Wishing you were somehow here again__  
__Wishing you were somehow near__  
__Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed__  
__Somehow you would be here" – Sarah Brightman__  
_

**Chapter 4: Pestilence and Famine**

And so came the first day of their street performance.

Ivan had a fitful night sleep, his mind filled with nightmares of his time at the mental ward. Gilbert's illness had his body shaking him awake. The larger of the two was grateful for the coughing fits that woke him up from his dreams. Seeing as sleep would not come either of them, the two men sat side by side at the broken window to watch the sun rise of the city. The sun had barely risen when they decided to leave the old church and begin their hunt for the perfect spot on the street. When the sun had fully risen in the sky, the two had reached the upper middle class section of the city. Ivan pointed out an open spot on the main market street to set up their show. But there were very few people out on the streets this early in the morning, so their performance would have to wait. Their bellies rumbled with the need for food, and both hoped that by the end of their performance there would be enough to buy some bread.

"Gilbert," Ivan started "Do you think we should have a name? You know, to make us look more…what's the word? Ah! Professional?"

The albino was admiring the flute, thinking of Fredrick as he answered. "Sure. Got any good names in that cloth covered head of yours?"

Ivan chuckled. "How about…The Beauty and the Beast? I'm the beauty, of course." He teased.

Gilbert laughed. "Not with those looks, pal!"

"Of course not. You're the beauty here. I am the beast. Notice today how people look upon me with loathing."

"Fuck those other guys. They all do that. If they don't want my ass then my looks are a bad omen. I was actually hit with a broomstick one time. Some crazy ol' fat lady screamed 'white demon' at me and swung her broom! She was actin' like a witch but I was the demon? I don't think so!"

"Ah, but your looks can work to your advantage. Mine can't. I am the symbol of disease. Of Pestilence."

"If you're Pestilence, then I'm Famine."

They were both silent, and then Ivan turned to Gilbert and said, "Famine?"

Gilbert looked back at him. "Yes, Pestilence?"

"Shall we begin?" He pointed to the increasing number of people appearing on the streets.

"Yes!" Gilbert took off his flat hat and placed it on its top to collect the money inside. "Do you know 'Riddle, Riddle'?" He asked Ivan.

Ivan smiled. "One of my favorites. Ready when you are."

Gilbert put his mouth on the lip plate, positioned his fingers, and began to play a chipper, upbeat little tune. Ivan stood silently for a moment or two so Gilbert's tune could reach the ears of passer-bys. He waited for the right moment to begin singing, and when it came, he sang.

Gilbert looked over at Vanya, meeting the purple eyes as he silently commented on the larger man's voice. Vanya really had a beautiful voice; a soft voice for a man so big. One would think that he would have a deep, baritone voice.

Ivan's sweet voice traveled on the invisible notes of Gilbert's music, swirling through the streets and reaching the ears of the people. First it was an elderly couple that had stopped to watch them. The old man's foot was tapping while the woman's wrinkled hands were swaying with the tune. A few more people heard the music, saw the elderly pair, and joined them to watch. The people stared at the two men, rarely having seen such two unlikely beings. One's face was covered in bandages while the other was pale as moonlight with pink shaded eyes. Yet the performing pair played together as if they were meant to be. As one man left he tossed in a silver coin. It would not be enough to buy bread, but it was a start. Then their music caught the curiosity of a rich man riding by in his carriage. The elderly gentleman with a heavy white handlebar mustache stopped to watch them. He spoke to his footman, who reached into his pocket and tossed a gold coin into Gilbert's hat. Ivan paused in his singing to thank the man before returning to the tune. The old man tipped his hat and the carriage rode away.

Gilbert ended the song and bowed as the people clapped. Ivan took a bow as well, and asked the people if anyone had a song they would like to hear. One woman requested a love song that Ivan did not know, but Gilbert knew the tune. When he began to play, Ivan made up for his lack of singing by dancing. His dancing wasn't like his voice, and he was rather clumsy. But that was part of the charm for the people chuckled and clapped. Ivan kept at it, and Gilbert kept playing. They had enough money to buy a loaf of bread and a clean cup of water. It was time for them to stop though, because Gilbert's chest was growing tight with all the heavy use of his lungs. The people cleared out and Ivan took the hat, picking out the coins.

"We did so good, Gilbert! Look at our earnings!"

"Yeah…wished it was more, though." He forced a grin through his pain. "We worked our way to a warm loaf of bread, Pestilence! I couldn't have done it without you."

"Ah, but the real thanks goes to you, Famine! Your beautiful music with my voice is the key to filling our empty bellies!"

"We're a great team!" Gilbert high-fived him.

Ivan showed him the coins in his palm. "I can taste that bread now!"

"And so can the king!" Before their eyes, a policeman had spoken and snatched the gold coin from Ivan's hand.

"HEY!" Gilbert shouted. "That's ours!"

The police held it in his fist with a smirk while his partner laughed. "And now it belongs to the king! Even the street rats need to pay their taxes!"

"GIVE IT BACK!"

"Tough shit, white rat!" Snapped the other policeman. "The king deserves this gold!"

Ivan held Gilbert back as he tried to claw at the policemen. "The king doesn't deserve it! We worked for it!"

The officer scoffed. "By singing and dancing. Hardly a career job! If you want to earn more you can always suck my cock? Do it good and maybe I'll give the gold back!" He smirked.

"Gilbert, stop." Ivan whispered to him. "We have the silver. Let's just go."

"NO!" Gilbert screamed. "That's our gold! OUR GOLD! WE EARNED IT HONESTLY!"

The second policeman spat at him. "Nothing you do is honest! Listen to your diseased friend here!" Another smug smirk. "Run along now, little rats! There's some fresh sewage down on Tarten Street! I hear it calling your names!"

Ivan had to use little force to actually hold Gilbert back as the man struggled to attack. The officers just walked off, the first one flipping the coin and talking of getting an ale.

Gilbert wanted to scream in outrage, and he had to bury his face in Ivan's chest and pound his fist on the other's shoulders. "It's not fair, Vanya! It's not fair! That was ours! Ours! THEY stole it from US! They're the thieves!"

"I know it was wrong, Gilbert. But we are powerless to stop them. We still have the silver. Maybe we can by day old bread instead?" He felt Gilbert's shoulder's shaking. Was the man crying?

"It's not fair, Vanya." He whispered into the coat. "It's just not fair. Why does this happen to us?"

Ivan simply held him. "It's just the way things are. As long as we keep aiming high and moving forward, we'll get where we need to be. I know it. We can't ever give up, even if all the law is against us."

"But…but I'm so hungry, Vanya! Tired and hungry!"

Ivan thought for a moment, and then pat Gilbert's back. "Let's go through the market and see what there is we can buy for one silver." He tucked the coin in his coat pocket and smiled at the crying man. He hated to see people cry. "Don't cry anymore, Gilbert. I'm here now." Ivan wiped away a tear with his thumb.

Gilbert gave him a sad smile and wiped his nose with the arm of his coat sleeve. "Alright…let's go see what they have!"

The two strolled through the market side by side, stopping at each vender and asking what they had for a silver coin. It was harsh economic times for everybody, and most of the venders could not afford to give up their goods for a simple silver coin. Gilbert was ready to give up, but Ivan still had hope. They came upon a fruit stand where a man was selling apples and cabbage.

"Excuse me, sir." Ivan got the man's attention. "Do you have anything for a silver coin?"

The man stroked his long, straggly brown beard. "Yeah, I might have somethin'. How about this here head of cabbage? It's a bit brown on the edges, but I'll give it to ya for a silver."

"We'll take it." Ivan paid the man the silver coin and took the cabbage, which was only brown on the tips of the leaves. He showed it to Gilbert. "See? We can have cabbage soup tonight. All we need is a pot."

Gilbert was licking his lips as he stared at the cabbage. "I think I have one back at the church! Come on! Let's go get started!"

They rushed all the way home with their single cabbage tucked safely under Ivan's arm. Once they got to the church, Gilbert sent Ivan to gather whatever bits of wood he could find for a fire. Gilbert, in the meantime, found the bucket half full of rainwater, picked out the bits of grass, and carried it in. The hardest part was finding something to put the fire in. Searching around the church had him coming up empty handed at each room and turn. Defeated, Gilbert went back up to their room to wait for Ivan. When the larger man finally returned with an armful of wood, Gilbert had to tell him the bad news.

"Sorry Vanya, but looks like we're eating cold cabbage today."

"Why?"

"We don't have anything to burn the fire in. We can heat up the water…but we can drink it."

Ivan looked at the rainwater in the old bin. "It's not very clean…but what choice do we have?" He placed the pile of wood in a corner. "We'll have to be on the lookout for something to hold a fire." He sat down beside Gilbert who was holding the cabbage. "You eat first."

"We'll pick off the leaves as we eat. We earned this together, so we'll eat it together!"

That afternoon, Ivan and Gilbert dined on cabbage leaves and drank murky rainwater. It was not their ideal meal, but it was enough to soothe the ache in their bellies. After they had finished, the two silently sat side-by-side, backs against the wall; legs out straight, and stared. Ivan was going to ask something about the old church when there was a weight on his shoulder. Gilbert had instantly fallen asleep, resting his head on the other's shoulder. Ivan smiled, allowing the albino to keep his head there. It was comforting to have someone so close to him like this. He laid his head against Gilbert's, closing his eyes and picturing his old life back on the Duke's farm. He would have wanted to show Gilbert his farm, let him meet the animals and help him with the work. Gilbert would like it. But that old life was only a memory to him. Gilbert would never see it, and he would never see it again. Ivan found himself thinking about his mother, and then her tragic death.

It jerked him awake, for he must have just been falling asleep when he had the memory of the automobile. His motions forced Gilbert awake.

"What happened?" Gilbert asked quickly, awake and alert.

"Nothing. I'm sorry I woke you. I had a bad dream."

Gilbert sighed. "Oh, good. I thought it was trouble. I mean, not good that you had a bad dream! But good that everything is okay!"

Ivan nodded. "I understand."

"So what was your dream about?" He asked with a yawn.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Gilbert got onto his hands and knees to grin at him. "Hey, I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours?"

"Alright." What else did they have to do? He would see how much Gilbert would tell him first.

"Fredrick, who we called 'Old Fritz' in the workhouse, was like a father to me, as you know. A father and friend. He taught me how to play the flute and the many songs he knew. For once I thought I was happy; and I mean TRULY happy." He looked up at the rotting ceiling. "Someone had finally shown me kindness; show me friendship and trust. But then…" he looked at his shoes. "He got very sick and wasn't allowed to be in the workhouse anymore. He was sent to the hospital ward, but they couldn't save him. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Ivan placed a hand on Gilbert's shoulder.

"I was stupid, too. In order to see him, my head master told me that if I let him fuck me, I would be able to see Fredrick. So…you can see where this is going. I gave in to him, let him have his way, and then he dismissed me. Cruelly." Gilbert clenched his fists. "I was sent back to work, ashamed and embarrassed by what I did, but those two things didn't match up to the ANGER I felt. I remembered thinking, 'how could I have been so stupid' over and over again. And then…when the dreaded news came…from my smiling head master that Fredrick was dead…I thought the floor had opened up under me. I was so upset over his death and how I didn't get to say goodbye that I left the workhouse. Sometimes I think it was a stupid idea, but I couldn't live there every day and see the head master or remember the spots where Fredrick and I used to sit. Too many memories." He smiled at his friend. "Sometimes I like the memories…they make me happy. And then other times they make me sad…and I wish they would go away."

"Hm. I understand how you feel." Ivan replied softly. "I also have many memories…both good and bad."

"Tell me yours, Vanya. Don't be shy, now. I just told you how I let my old boss fuck me and my best friend died of disease."

Ivan took a deep breath. "Alright." He would have to leave some stuff out, but he knew what to say. "You see, I don't remember much after my…addiction." That was a lie, but Gilbert didn't have to know that.

"Addiction? Sex, right?" He tapped at the bandages.

"No, not sex. Opium." Gilbert nodded. "I got caught up in that and it ruined my career as a bricklayer. So it took me some time to get cleaned…you know, get it all out of my system. I would do anything to get it; hence how I ended up with this sickness. Now that the worst is over…I'm just…living day to day, like you."

"Yeah, but what about your family? Didn't you have a family?" Gilbert's questioned.

"I did, a father and a mother. My mother became ill in her head. One day she…went crazy and ran out into the street where she was…was hit by an automobile."

Gilbert's brows raised high. "She was run over? I saw someone get hit by a real big one! Chopped the guy right-" he stopped when he saw Ivan's sad eyes. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I just blurt shit out like that… don't take it personally. And that's rough…what happened to your mother."

"I didn't get to say 'goodbye' either. She was already dead when I pulled her twisted body from underneath the machine. So now…I get a little nervous around those automobiles. Even if I hear them…I tense up." Gilbert slapped him on the back.

"Don't worry about it. I won't laugh at you for that. If you get scared of one, just grab my hand and squeeze, okay?" He grinned. "That'll work for you!"

Ivan looked at Gilbert's face and noticed some tears twinkling on the tips of white lashes. "Gilbert? Are you crying?"

"No. I'm not crying. Not at all!" His eyes remained closed but the tears grew bigger under his lashes. "I didn't get to say goodbye…"

"Fredrick knew." Ivan said, trying to comfort his friend.

"That's not the same, though!" He said through grit teeth, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "God above, I hate crying! He was alone, Vanya! He was alone when he died! Alone, sick, and scared! I wanted to be with him but I couldn't! Fritz died alone, without me beside him! Without anyone! They just leave people in that ward to DIE, Vanya! We're poor, useless people that the world is HAPPY to get rid of!" his voice lowered to a wheezing whisper. "But that's not even what scares me the most."

Ivan removed Gilbert's hat to gently stroke the white hair. "What scares you, Gilbert?"

He sniffled. "That one day…one day soon…I'm going to die all alone." He let out a broken laugh. "I'm going to die alone, sick, and scared…just like Fritz. I always wondered what was on his mind when he was dying…what was he thinking? When it is my turn to go…what will be on my mind? No one will be there with me. No one will care. I was born alone and I will die alone."

"You forget that I am going to die too!" Ivan lied, in a sense. "I am diseased and there is no cure. My flesh will rot off and I will die of infection. But Gilbert, you won't have to die alone. I am here with you now. Neither of us has to be alone." Ivan smiled at him, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"But what about when one of us dies? It could be you or me first…that still leaves the other alone."

Ivan didn't have an answer for that because there wasn't one. When he glanced at Gilbert, he saw the saddened look of hopelessness and fear. He pulled Gilbert into a tight embrace and let the weakened man cry into his coat. "Even if one of us dies, the one who lives carries on our memory."

"Sad memories." Gilbert whispered into the fabric.

"Sad, yes. But many good." He rubbed small circles on Gilbert's back. "Every time you have a sad memory about Fritz, think of two good memories in its place. That sometimes helps me."

Gilbert pulled away from him with a smile, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "I'll have to try that, Vanya. Thanks." He cleared his throat. "Should we go digging through some trash cans?"

Ivan nodded. "Yes. How silly it is," he smiled "That Pestilence and Famine are rooting through garbage."

/

The two men found their way to the same garbage bins as before. Gilbert insisted that this house always threw away the best food and that it was worth the wait. So they waited until nightfall when the servants dumped all of the garbage to begin rooting through. Ivan found a chicken bone with most of the skin still left on it. He shared half of it with Gilbert who squealed in delight at the still salty taste. There was half chewed pieces of bread, some crackers, corn cobs with some corn left on them, and something that might have been a cauliflower. It was a good haul here at this house! Once the cans had been thoroughly raided, Ivan and Gilbert set off for home. They took a turn into a local city park to escape the city streets for a bit.

However, Ivan was attracted to the crowd of people gathering around a wagon with lit torches on the roof. The music was what had first attracted him, and he stopped in mid walk to peer over the crowd of heads. He was just tall enough than most of the people to see the stage of the wagon.

"Vanya!" Gilbert hissed. "We have to keep moving!"

"But it's a circus!" He smiled. "Look!" He pointed to the wagon. "I have never been to one."

Gilbert sneered. "It's not what it appears to be! Now come on! We have to leave!" He tugged on the large man's arm.

"Can't we just wait and see what happens? I want to see something exciting!"

"I hate this place, Vanya! Please, can't we just go?"

Ivan ignored him. "We don't have to stay long."

Gilbert could only grumble and hid behind the other, peeking over the shoulder as Clifford came out onto the stage. The people laughed at his appearance; he wore a tall purple skinny top hat and tight blue striped pants. His coat was overly sized and a dirty, patchy green. Gilbert wanted to vomit just looking at the man.

"WELCOME! WELCOME! ONE AND ALL! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, PROSTITUTES AND DRUNKS!" The crowd laughed. "WELCOME TO MY MIDNIGHT FRIGHTS CIRCUS! WHERE I HAVE CAPTURED SOME OF THE SCARIEST CREATURES YOU'VE EVER SEEN! SOME ARE ALIVE! SOME ARE DEAD AND STUFFED! BUT REST ASSURED, MY FRIENDS, FOR MY CREATURES OF THE NIGHTS WILL SHOCK AND FRIGHTEN YOU!" The crowd mumbled and blabbered in excitement. "SOME COME IN, PLEASE! COME IN AND SEE FOR YOURSELF, JUST HOLD YOUR CHILDREN AND WOMEN TIGHT FOR IF ANY GET TOO CLOSE TO THE BARS…" the torches exploded in a blast of fiery light, making the crowd gasp and shriek. "YOU MAY LOSE THEM FOREVER!"

Ivan looked to Gilbert. "Creatures of the night? I wonder what those could be?"

"We're not staying to find out!" He tugged on the other's arm again. "Let's GO! This place is dangerous!"

"How do you know?"

"Trust me, I just do, okay? This is a horrible place for the people who live in it! I can bet that any of those 'creatures' in those wagons and tents are fake! Clifford is a con artist! A kidnapper and a knave!"

"FOR JUST ONE SILVER PIECE, MY FINE FRIENDS, YOU CAN SEE MY CREATURES OF THE NIGHT!" The people were shoving to get to the ticket booth. "AND FOR ALL THE SINGLE, UNMARRIED MEN, COME BACK TOMORROW FOR MY 'LADIES OF THE DARK'!" The crowd was speaking in a deeper tone now as many of the men were eagerly considering the next attraction. "YOU CANNOT TELL YOUR MAMA OR YOUR LADY ABOUT THESE WOMEN! The things they do," he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Oh the things they do." The men cheered and pumped their fists or clapped in approval.

Gilbert spit on the ground. "He's a rotten man, that's what he is! A thief, a whoremonger, and a con artist! I bet he runs it as a brothel too!"

"But the circus can be fun." Ivan mentioned. "They have funny people in there, and people who can do all sorts of tricks."

"Yeah, people who he's kidnapped or talked in to performing for him! Now really, Vanya! Let's go home! Please! It is getting darker by the minute and I don't want to be around here when the crowd thins out!"

"Then you just wait here for me. I want to see all the wagons. They are free, it would seem. The tent is where all the crazy things are."

"Vanya-!" Gilbert couldn't stop the larger man from walking off to the first wagon that held some sort of growling animal. "Stupid guy!" He crossed his arms. 'I want to go home!' The familiar smell of cigar smoke filled his nostrils, and with a growl and a shiver of his shoulders, he turned to see Clifford waltzing up to him. "I should have known it was you."

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" The man took a heavy, loud puff of his cigar. "Come to see my creatures?"

"No. So go away."

Clifford didn't move. "Why suffer so, Gilbert?"

"Do not call me by my name!" He hissed. "Keep yourself and your goons away from me!"

The man appeared to be hurt at the words. "Gilbert, I am only looking out for your life. Just think, if you join my Creatures of the Night, you will have food and a clean place to sleep. With the money you'll make you can easily save up for a doctor." Clifford pat his own chest. "I know you suffer from the cough. You need money to heal that cough."

Gilbert turned away from him. "I would rather die choking on my own blood than join your lies."

"Hear me out. People will pay a lot of money to see a white demon. A sensual white demon. A 'succubus', if you will or rather, an 'incubus'. That would be the boy version of the succubus." He smirked. "You would make a perfect demon. I have some black cloth wings in the storage wagon. They are those of a bat. With the right lightening they will appear real. We give you a tail and seat you naked in a cage to act all lustful and wanton. Oh how the men, and women, would pay to see you! All that money you will bring in can give you food, clean clothes, and a doctor to tend to you. Wouldn't that be simply divine? It's better than what you have now."

The albino turned back around to glare at the circus man. "Never speak to me of such things again. I am Gilbert Beilschmidt! I always do what I want! No one will tell me how to run my life!"

Clifford sighed. "One day you will come to me, begging for a job. Be grateful that I will always take you in." He smiled. "The White Incubus. That's what we shall call you. Or maybe just the 'The White Demon'. With the use of some special drugs and the Green Fairy, I'm sure you'll become the incubus I know you can be!" He laughed. Gilbert took a swing at him but Clifford was able to move out of range. "Cute. Just think on it."

"Gilbert?" Ivan said his name, coming up to the two men. "Why are you talking with the circus man?"

Clifford looked Ivan up and down. "Oh my, look at you! You're a big fella! Diseased, are you?"

Ivan just gave a nod. "Syphilis."

"Vanya, don't talk to him." Gilbert said firmly. "He's a bastard!"

"I'm an entertainer!" Clifford said proudly. "I am only trying to make a decent living best on the best of my abilities. So, masked man, would you like to join my Creatures of the Night?"

"Why would I want to join that?" Ivan asked innocently.

"For money, food, a warm bed?"

Gilbert grabbed his partner's arm. "In exchange for having people stare and jeer and laugh at you for being DIFFERENT! He makes a profit off of your depression."

Clifford gave a bow. "I strive to help the lowly street wanderers. I was just telling your friend Gilbert here that he doesn't need to starve. If he joins me, he can have a quarter of the pay. He will have food, and maybe even find a doctor. He is foolish to decline my offer, and so would you be, Vanya, was it?"

"It is." Ivan said. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I must say 'no' as well. If I ever do decide to change this life, I will seek you out. Thank you for your time." Ivan allowed Gilbert to pull him away this time, and the albino dragged him out of the park and into the dark streets once again. "What was with you back there?" He asked.

Pink eyes closed and he shook his head. "He wants to dress me up as a fake demon. It's because of my albino features, and he knows that. I frighten people because of my looks. Yes, they will pay money to see a white demon, but I will not be kept in a cage for people's enjoyment! I am a person, not a tourist attraction! And neither are YOU! So don't fall pray to his ploys, okay?"

Ivan nodded. "Okay. I do like the circus, though. I saw a tiger!"

"That's great." Gilbert took his hand and pulled him. "I want to get back to the church. I'm very tired and we have another day of singing and playing!"

/

Inside the church, Ivan lit the candle as Gilbert fixed the blanket of the makeshift bed. The air was chilly tonight and it blew right through the old wood of the church. Gilbert coughed a little, using his sleeve to cover his mouth. When the aching had ceased, he turned to Ivan.

"I think it's best if we sleep together tonight." Gilbert offered. "We can keep each other warm under the blanket."

"Yes, I agree."

"As soon as we get up, we head back to the city to perform, take our money and RUN. Those damn officers will take our money again." He sneered. "That really pissed me off!"

"At least we had some cabbage."

Gilbert nodded and settled under the blanket, waiting for his friend to join him. "You coming?"

"Yes." He was taking off his shoes to put beside him.

"Hey, I know you're a really nice guy and have a hard time saying 'no', but are you afraid to lay next to me? I do have the cough, you know."

Ivan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care about that. Have you seen me?" He smiled and tapped at his bandages. Ivan feared that one day he would slip and let it be known to Gilbert that he really didn't have any disease. He didn't want to lose his friend's trust, but could not risk getting caught and being brought back to that horrible place. Ivan would bite off his own tongue and kill himself.

Gilbert smiled as Vanya slid under the small blanket beside him. The man didn't care about his sickness! Gilbert didn't care about Vanya's, either. The man was properly bandaged of any leaking pus and opened wounds. But the best part was having someone sleeping next to him, someone who wasn't paying him for sex. Just a friendly warm body to help keep him warm in the night. He wasn't sure how Vanya would react when he chose to cuddle the other, but the large man made no move to shove him. Gilbert latched himself onto Vanya, resting his head along the other's chest right above his heartbeat. Vanya was warm and strong, so unlike himself. He felt the tears pricking his eyes once again as he remembered how he was once younger and stronger. His illness and homelessness was taking its toll on him. And then his thoughts went to Fredrick, thinking about how the man must have felt dying all alone, sick and scared. Gilbert almost felt guilty of having Vanya here with him. If they were to stay together, it was clear that Vanya would outlive him, and maybe even be here with him when the disease finally took over. He should die alone the same as Fredrick did. Maybe, when that time comes, he should just wander away to die like an old dog; find a dark, cold, enclosed space and let God play His cruel joke.

"Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you crying?"

"I never used to cry…but I seem to do it all the time now."

"Please don't cry." Ivan slid his arm around the other's narrow waist. "I don't like to see people cry."

"I can't help it." He let Vanya hold him, which brought about another wave of fresh tears. He squeezed the larger man tightly, or as tight as he could. "I hate this disease. I hate that Fredrick is gone. I hate this life!"

Ivan let the other cry into his chest. "I'm here with you now. I have no one else but you. At least we are together, yes? Be happy about that. We have each other."

"Yeah…yeah we do. 'At least I know he will be here with me for awhile.' Goodnight Vanya."

"Goodnight Gilbert. Sleep well."

"Can I…stay like this?"

"Of course."

Ivan stayed awake for a long while just watching the dark clouds passing over the moon from the window. He could feel the even breathing of Gilbert beside him, signaling that the man was asleep. Poor Gilbert, he thought. The man was suffering much due to his harsh life on the streets along with a disease. Ivan didn't fear catching Gilbert's cough. There wasn't much of life left for him anyway. All they had right now was each other in this dark, cruel world that was against them. This old church was their safe haven. Their sanctuary. Together here they were just Ivan and Gilbert. Or rather, 'Vanya' and Gilbert. Soon he would tell Gilbert his true name. He was certain that if Gilbert knew who he was, where he'd been, and what his crimes were, the albino wouldn't care. Still, it was too much to reveal so soon. His secret would have to stay safe with him for a little bit longer.

Turning over to his side, he pulled Gilbert closed and cradled him in his arms. The man was small; frail and thin. Ivan knew he himself would get to that size as well very soon unless they could eat more. Oh well, tomorrow was another day, he said to himself. He finally let sleep claim him.

But neither men heard the sound of squeaking rats as the rodents gathered in a circle of seven or more. One black rat saw the two laying across from them on the floor. With a squeak and hiss, it ran towards them with the others following.

End Chapter 4 TBC


	5. What A Wonderful World

*****Thanks for all the reviews! ^_^ Here's chapter 5! I hope you enjoy it!**

*****Warnings: Language, oral, minor violence**

*****Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.**

'_**I see skies of blue, and clouds of white.**_

_**The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night.**_

_**And I think to myself, 'what a wonderful world'- Louis Armstrong**_

**Chapter 5: What A Wonderful World**

Ivan jumped up as something ran across his shoulder, startling him from his light sleep. The movement forced Gilbert awake, who let out a cry of fright and alarm.

"What's going on?" Gilbert almost shrieked.

"Rats!" Ivan jumped up, kicking one of the gray rodents away from him.

Gilbert saw more of them coming towards them. "We're surrounded! We need something to beat them with!"

Ivan kicked another out of the way as he searched for something to use as a club. Gilbert jumped over a few of them and picked up a piece of wood to use. Ivan looked around for something similar. The albino wasted no time batting and smashing at the rats as they attacked. He knocked one to the wall as another started to climb up his pant leg. Ivan tore off a board of broken wood just in time to bat one away. Gilbert could only stun the rats while Ivan was able to smash them with just one or two blows. The rats wouldn't stop coming at them. On and on they fought the small demons, smashing and batting them here or there until only one was left. Ivan quickly stepped on it, and raising the sharp end of the board, broke its neck. Gilbert dropped his board and leaned back against the wall, panting and holding his chest.

"They gone?"

Ivan let out a breath. "I think so." He looked around at the carnage of crushed and beaten rats. "Best we clean these up."

Gilbert stomach growled, and so did Ivan's. Both men looked at each other and thought the same thing.

Outside in the dark, behind the church, the two started a fire in a rusted barrel. They stabbed three rats each on sharpened sticks and laid them along the top of the barrel. The fire would burn off all the fur. Rats weren't the best things to eat, but they were solid meat that would fill their aching bellies. They sat side by side before the burning barrel, watching the rats cooking and listening to the crackling of the fire.

Gilbert tilted his head up and looked at the stars. "There's so many of them."

Ivan looked up as well. "You're right, there are. It's a clear night, which means we'll have a bright day tomorrow." Gilbert was suddenly shaking with coughs and Ivan rubbed his back as the other leaned forward. "Are you okay?"

Gilbert took a deep breath once the coughing fit had ceased. He swallowed hard, wincing at the pain in his throat. He heard Ivan's sharp intake of breath, and then he himself did the same. There were speckles of blood in his palm, more than the last time. Gilbert turned to look at Ivan, holding out his palm. "I'm dying."

Ivan reached his hand out and wiped away the bit of blood from the corner of Gilbert's mouth. "The blood is still little. You have some time. We have to perform more and then we can get you some help." He saw the tears in Gilbert's eyes. "We'll figure something out, don't worry." Ivan used his sleeve to wipe away the blood on the palm.

"We'll never make enough money for a doctor…not doing what we're doing. The need for food is strong…I may not last by the…the time…we save up!" He voice broke.

Ivan brought him into an embrace, stroking the back of the white hair. "We'll just have to find a way."

"Oh Vanya…I wonder, how much longer I'll be able to see the stars? Hear the sounds of the city? Smell the morning air as dawn breaks?"

"A very long time. Stop talking like you're giving up. You still have options."

Gilbert scoffed, wrapping his arms around Ivan. "What options?"

"Undesirable ones." He felt Gilbert tense in his arms. "You may have to decide which need is greater; the need to survive or the need to suffer. I can't make that decision for you, Gilbert. You have to do it."

He buried his face in Ivan's neck. "I don't want to be a freak…I don't want to be a prostitute…I don't want the doctors to test on me…but those are the only options for me. I can't do it, Vanya. I just can't."

"Let's just see what tomorrow brings. We'll put on our little song and dance again, but this time we'll be aware of the police." He felt Gilbert nod against him. "Come now, the rats are done. Let's eat until we're filled."

So that night they dined on cooked rats, which helped to give them a little boost of energy. It was nearing sunrise. Gilbert took Ivan by the hand and guided him up onto the roof from a secret stair in the church. He showed Ivan where to step and when to move quickly. They sat down on the roof near the edge, side by side, to watch the city come alight with morning. Silently they sat, watching as the moon gave way to the sun. The bright rays came up over the city rooftops, chasing away the night. Gilbert slipped his hand over to Ivan's, threading their fingers together. Ivan glanced down at their hands and smiled at the albino.

"I want to thank you, Vanya, for staying with me. For not shunning me, or calling me a white demon…or thinking I'm a bad omen."

"And I want to thank you for accepting me as how I am…bandaged like this."

Gilbert smiled. "You know, you don't have to keep those bandages on around me if they bother you. I don't care if you're ugly or if your skin is rotting off."

"Ah, I'm happy keeping the bandages on. I don't want the sores to get dirty."

"Oh, right." Gilbert turned back to the sunset, letting out a sigh. "How many more sunrises do I have?"

"Many."

The albino scoffed. "The only friends I have are you and Death, and Death is winning."

"Death will come for me too. Please, stop talking like that. You still have a fighting chance. You just have to…swallow your pride for a little bit. You might have to belittle yourself to get ahead."

Gilbert was silent for a long while, watching as the sun rose higher in the sky. "You know…I remember when I used to be young and strong. Now this sickness…this life…is just taking everything away from me."

"Then you have to get it back." Ivan said.

"You're right. Let's see how we do with our performance today. If we fail, I will…prostitute myself for the evening. That should gain us a few extra coins, especially if I market myself at the higher end of the city. Those rich, snobbish bastards will take us street rats because we'll do things their prim and proper ladies won't do."

Ivan raised his brows. "Are you certain you want to do that?"

"Of course I don't. But what choice do I have? That's the easiest one out of the three." He glanced at his partner. "Maybe not for you."

"Hm?" It took Ivan a moment to understand what Gilbert was speaking of. "Oh, yes. My disease." He cleared his throat. "You don't want to end up like me."

Gilbert grinned. "And you don't want to end up like ME! Coughing up blood and wasting away."

Ivan stood up then with a clap of his hands. "Let's not talk about this. It's a new day and we have people to impress!" He held his hand out to Gilbert and helped the man stand. "Are you ready, Famine?"

The albino couldn't help but snort at the title. "Ready as I'll ever be, Pestilence!" He took out his flute. "Let's go earn us some dough!"

/

They went to the same area of the city but chose a different place; Gilbert was to play and Ivan was to sing. The people stopped to watch them like before, but only one had donated a silver coin. On and on they played until Gilbert was out of breath and Ivan's voice was raw. Ivan quickly snatched up their earnings and they hurried away into an ally to count what they had earned. Four silver coins; enough for two loaves of bread and even a pint of milk! Ivan put the coins in his pocket and they rushed to the market, hoping to find that a baker or two still had some loaves.

"This is awesome, Vanya!" Gilbert practically galloped through the market streets. "We're gonna eat! We're gonna eat!"

Ivan just followed behind. "We certainly are! Look! That baker still has bread!"

Gilbert pushed through three or four people to get to the stand where a plump and round baker whistled merrily. "Afternoon baker man!" Greeted the albino. "How much is your bread?"

Ivan joined him.

The baker looked at Ivan and cringed. "You! Don't you touch any of my food!"

Ivan put his hands up. "I won't."

"You're sick! So stay away from it!" The baker smiled at Gilbert. "Now then, what can I get for you? These were all baked fresh this morning!"

Gilbert's mouth was watering at the sight of all the fresh bread. Some were round, others long, and the rest fat. "How much for one whole loaf?"

"A silver for the long ones. Two silvers for the rounds."

"WE'll take a long one!" Gilbert took the silver coin from Ivan and gave it to the baker. The baker picked up the loaf to hand it to him. Gilbert cradled the bread in his arms as if it were a child.

"Thanks a plenty!" Said the plump baker, sniffling with his red nose.

Gilbert licked his lips as they walked away. "Just think, Vanya! Soon this bread will be IN our bellies!"

Ivan laughed. "It's a feast fit for Famine and Pestilence! What else should we get?"

"Hm. I think we should get some milk to go with the bread! Then we'll keep the silver piece to start saving up. And there, good sir, is some milk!" Gilbert grinned and pointed to the farming stand where there stood a cow tied to a lamp post behind its vender.

Ivan and Gilbert went up to the man and asked how much a pint of milk was.

"Two gold pieces." He answered. Both their jaws dropped at the steep price.

"Why so high?" Asked Ivan.

"For the glass bottle, you dolt." Answered the lanky man. "If you want milk, it's only a silver coin for however much you can fit. You got anything on you? A bowl? A cup?"

Ivan and Gilbert looked at each other and shook their heads. "If we give you a silver coin," Started Ivan "Can we get a bottle of milk and just bring it back to you?"

The man threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, right. I'm gonna trust my hard earned glass bottles to some riff rats? I don't think so. If you don't got nuthin' to put it in, then scram."

"Let's go, Gilbert." Ivan led him away. "We'll try again next time."

"He's a jackass!" Gilbert growled. "Whatever. We still have rain water left. Let's sit down and enjoy our bread. Then we can go to the rich part and dig through our favorite trash bins. Sound good?" He brought the loaf in half and gave one to Ivan.

Ivan accepted the bread. "Sure. Hopefully we can find something to store in liquids. I haven't had milk in so long."

"Yeah, and it would have gone great with the bread!"

They escaped into the more deserted part of the market to dine on their bread. Gilbert viciously bit and tore at his, barely chewing. All he cared about was that fluffy deliciousness making its way into his belly. Ivan controlled his intake, chewing slowly and savoring the bread. But their happiness was to last, for soon they were approached by two policemen. The officers always traveled in pairs. Gilbert's eyes widened, for he recognized their faces as the two who brutally attacked him a few nights ago. This must be their route. They were coming his way too. Gilbert moved closer to Vanya.

"Well, well, well, lookie here!" Said the first one. "Why if it isn't our little white street rat. Who's your friend?"

Ivan looked at them but said nothing.

"None of your business." Gilbert answered with a glare. "Leave us alone. We're not doing anything wrong."

The second officer twirled his night stick. "Maybe you aren't NOW, but you were."

Ivan's brows furrowed and Gilbert sneered. "You're lying! We didn't do anything!"

"You stole that bread." Said the first.

"No." Ivan finally spoke up. "We bought it from our earnings. Go ask the plump baker with the red nose. He'll tell you."

The officers chuckled at one another, clearly not believing their story. "Just hand over the bread and we'll let you go." Said the second.

Gilbert held the bread to his chest, his eyes wide and his teeth grit. "NO! THIS IS OUR BREAD!"

"Hand it over, pinkie." Said the first, taking out his nightstick. "Don't make me have to break your little hand."

"JUST LEAVE US ALONE!" Gilbert pleaded with them. "Just go…please. We're tired and hungry."

The officers laughed again. "That's what they all say. We've heard it before." Said the second. "We've heard it many times, from men, wives, mothers, children. But the law is just and true. It overrides everything."

Ivan glanced at them. "The law is also made to protect the people."

The first responded with a scoff. "TRUE and HONEST people. Not scum like you." He turned back to Gilbert. "Hand over the bread which you had stolen or lose what few teeth you probably have left."

Gilbert only held the bread closer to this chest, squeezing it tight. "It's mine. I bought it." 'Why isn't Vanya helping more?' He wondered nervously. Gilbert laid pleading eyes on the first officer, noticing the dirty look on the man's face. Gilbert lowered his eyes; he recognized that look. Letting go of his bread was out of the question. He wanted this bread; he NEEDED this bread. His heart would break if it were to be taken away. So swallowing hard, Gilbert lifted his eyes to look into the officer's brown ones. "Can I do something for you in exchange for keeping the bread?"

Ivan gave his partner and intense stare. Was Gilbert serious?

The first guard looked to his partner silently. "Do what you want." Said the second. "I won't fucking touch him."

"Alright then, pinkie." Said the first. "You're always running off at the mouth, so let's give it something to talk about, hm?" He smirked. "I'll let you keep the bread and forget any of this happened."

Gilbert looked down at the bread in his arms, remembering Vanya's words from earlier in the day. Sacrifices were going to have to be made. This officer just wanted him to use his mouth, which wouldn't be difficult. It was easier than getting fucked. Vanya was lucky to be diseased for no one would bother him. He was diseased too, but his illness was not physically noticeable.

Holding his breath, Gilbert handed the bread to his partner. "Vanya, just wait here. I won't be long." His voice was soft and defeated.

Ivan held the bread in his arms, giving Gilbert a woeful look. He watched as the officer ushered Gilbert into a nearby ally to perform the preferred act. Ivan wished he could do more, but he could not risk being found out by the police. If they were to unmask him, then he'd be back in that mental house hooked up to electric. He cared for Gilbert, but the chilling fear he had of that horrible place was stronger than his emotions. Gilbert was free to make his own choices. Ivan glanced at the other officer, who was staring intently at him.

"You're a big fellow." He said. "The biggest guy I've seen in a while." Ivan just gave a nod. "Why you all bandaged up?"

"I'm sick."

"Sick with what?"

"Syphilis."

The officer made a face of disgust. "Ew. No wonder you're dirt poor. Spent all your money at the whore house, got sick, and now no one will give you honest work. Tsk. I wish we could just kill all the diseased people the moment we saw them. You know, to slow the chance of it spreading." He gave a laugh.

Ivan was not amused, but kept his mouth shut and looked away.

In the ally, Gilbert could feel the officer getting ready to reach completion. He didn't think about the cock he was sucking on but rather the bread that he would soon be eating. The man was average size, barely anything extravagant. It was disgusting, what he was doing, but if it let him keep the bread, then he could stomach it. The man was close now, signaling ejaculation by gripping his hair. The officer held his head and pushed further down his throat as orgasm hit. Gilbert choked back the urge to vomit as he was forced to swallow all of the bitter cum in his mouth. The man let out a deep breath of relief while Gilbert quickly pulled his mouth away. The taste was horrid, and his lips went flat as he felt the venom burn on the way down. He held his stomach and lurched over just slightly, trying not to throw up or cough.

"Full now?" Laughed the officer. "Hey, whore, look up at your superior."

Gilbert held his breath but did as he was told. The officer gave him an eerie smile while reaching into his pocket and taking out a gold coin.

"You want this gold coin? Tell you what. Since I've never fucked an albino before, I'll give you this gold coin for the pleasure."

'A gold coin?' Gilbert's eyes widened slightly. 'I could buy three loaves of bread!'

"I see it in your little pink eyes, mousie. You'll do anything for a bit of money, hm? You must like taking cock in whatever way you can get it so long as there is a promise of money." He flipped the coin in the air and caught it in his palm. "So? Do we have a deal?"

Gilbert wanted that gold coin. He wanted those loaves of bread. He wanted milk. But could he offer himself to this policemen? Someone who beat him just for the sheer enjoyment of it? This man and his partner purposefully harass him. Why should he lower himself to this man in particular? His pride was more important than bread or milk. So looking up at the man, Gilbert slowly shook his head 'no', stood up, and held his chin high.

The officer was in shock at the refusal of a gold coin. But shock quickly turned into anger. "Hey, slut, lower your head! You are in the presence of an officer of the king!" Gilbert refused. "After what you just let yourself do, street rat, you've got a lot of balls to hold your head high! I said lower it!"

"I did what you asked of me and nothing more. Keep your gold."

The officer growl low, took out his nightstick, and bashed Gilbert's cheek with it. Gilbert fell to the street, stunned, as his mouth filled with blood and his face aching with pain.

"Stupid slut!" The man spat on him as he left.

Gilbert tried to catch his breath while the pain in his cheek escaladed to his eye and ear. He could already feel his face swelling and taste the metallic liquid in his mouth. "V-Vanya!" He called weakly. "Vanya…" he held his chest and started to cough violently.

"Gilbert!" Ivan ran to him with the bread still in his arms. He couldn't help Gilbert with the coughing, so instead he sat back against the building wall and cradled the smaller man in his lap. Ivan placed the bread on Gilbert's lap to better support him. He could see the large bruise forming on Gilbert's pale cheek, going so far as to making the bottom of his eye swell up as well. To make Gilbert more comfortable during his coughing fit, Ivan removed the flat hat and unbuttoned the coat for him to get more air. When the coughing finally stopped, pink bloodshot eyes gazed tiredly up at him.

"Do you…have the bread?" Gilbert asked in a harsh whisper.

"I do. Just rest a moment." Ivan held him in an embrace, like a mother would her child. The other accepted his embrace by burrowing into his neck, hiding the tears that began to fall. Ivan let him cry and simply held him, rocking them both. "It's alright. We still have our bread and our silver coins. Not all is lost."

"I'm hungry." Gilbert whispered against his neck.

"Would you like your bread?" The other nodded against him. Ivan handed him the piece, watching as trembling hands took the half of loaf. He never took the time to study Gilbert's hands; they were thin and small, lined with light blue veins beneath paper skin. Gilbert would need a hospital soon…something they couldn't afford. The churches were always full as well. There was no cure for the sickness Gilbert had, but with the proper care he could extend his life.

"Does it look bad?"

"Hm?"

"My face…from where he hit me."

"Oh, it's swollen, but it will heal. We should be getting back to the church so you can rest."

Gilbert chewed on more of the bread, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I can't prostitute myself tonight. My face will scare the men away. That's what the officer wanted. He offered me a gold coin to let him fuck me. I wouldn't do it. I couldn't do it, not with him. Not with any policemen." He looked up at Ivan. "I'm sorry…I didn't consider you when the coin was offered."

"Don't worry about me. I think that…well…I think that I may try to be helpful for us as well."

"You aren't going to join the circus, are you? Please say you're not?"

Ivan shook his head. "No. I'm going to try a bit of…gambling. I was really good at it a long time ago. As long as I go to the right places, I may be able to squeeze some money out of poker players."

"I might want to try that too. Could I come with you when you go? I want to learn how to play poker and gamble."

Ivan smiled. "It's tricky, and not everyone is made for it. But you are more than welcome to come along when I decide to go. Right now I am content with our little song and dance." He saw the small smile on Gilbert's face.

"Yeah. Me too."

"So let's finish our bread and then head back."

Gilbert nodded and ate the rest of his bread, ignoring the pain in his jaw and cheek. His partner was still on his half, and Gilbert couldn't help but bite off some of Vanya's. The other didn't protest and they ate the piece together. "Sorry." Gilbert said with his mouth full. "I'm just so hungry."

"You need it more than I do. We'll buy some more bread for you on the way."

The albino smiled up at him. "Vanya? I just want to say thank you for helping and trying to take care of me. No one other than Fredrick has ever done that for me."

"We're friends now, so of course I will take care of you. I'll even carry you home on my back if I need too."

"Normally I would say no, but for now, the answer is 'yes'. Please do."

So Ivan carried his friend home piggy-back style. Ivan choked half of the way because Gilbert insisted on eating the bread as he held on. By the time they had reached the church it was sunset, and for the first time in a long while they had their bellies full. Ivan finally put Gilbert down and made the man walk the rest of the way. As they ascended the stairs to their spot, they searched around for signs of any more rats. The coast was clear; for now.

Gilbert sat on the bed of blankets and motioned for Ivan to join him. When the larger man sat down, Gilbert decided to move across his lap instead. Ivan just stared at him, wondering what the other was up to. Gilbert's face was still swollen, but he was smiling as if it didn't bother him.

"I wonder what you look like under all those bandages?"

"I look hideous." Ivan answered.

"I bet you don't. So you have a few marks on your face. Who cares?"

"I do."

"You're crazy." He chuckled. "But I like you. I think I'll keep you."

"Keep me?" To Ivan's utter amazement, Gilbert suddenly pressed their lips together. It was a soft, chaste kiss; like one a lover would give. "What was that for? I'm sick, remember?"

Gilbert gave him another quick kiss. "I'm sick too. Maybe we'll balance each other out."

Ivan blocked another kiss from Gilbert with his palm. "You've thanked me enough today, Gilbert. We don't need to kiss."

"But I want to." He straddled his legs on either side of the other. "I don't care if you're sick. I'm going to die anyway."

Ivan placed his hands on Gilbert's chest, gently pushing him away. "You don't have to suffer with me. You are suffering enough. Just because I am here with you does not mean we have to be together like this."

Gilbert pouted his swollen bottom lip. "You don't like me, Vanya?"

"I do like you, Gilbert. I just-" he lifted Gilbert easily off of him, placing the man beside him. "I just don't want to have sex."

"Who says I'm asking for sex?"

"I felt you growing hard against my belly." Ivan said with amusement. "I have a disease, Gilbert. I refuse to spread it."

The albino pouted in annoyance at his comrade. "Vanya, you're just too good to be true."

Ivan gave him a smile before standing. "I'm going to go search the streets and trashcans for anything we might need, or anything I find of interest. This is going to be our home for a while, so I think we should make it look more…homely." He smiled happily. "Don't you agree?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not? Just be careful out there, and please, come back to me?"

"I will. Just rest for now and feel better. I'll wake you when I'm back. IF any rats come, just run outside until I get back. I'll try to be back before it grows too late."

/

The streets were growing dark as the lamp lighter began to make his rounds. Ivan passed him without a second glance, hands in his pockets, eyes staring at the sidewalk. Gilbert's action of kissing earlier had caught him by surprise. He understood why Gilbert was feeling this way towards him. He was the albino's only source of company after being alone for so long. Gilbert was desperate for attention, for any kind of attention. Ivan wouldn't have said no to Gilbert's advances if the timing were different. He had to keep Gilbert believing he was sick. He could not reveal himself to anyone, not even his comrade. He did want to comfort Gilbert in any way that he could so the man can experience some joy in his last months on this earth. It saddened him to know that Gilbert would die, and that they were helpless to do anything. Ivan wasn't a fool. He knew they needed to make a lot of money at a quicker race if Gilbert were to survive. If they saved up enough, then Gilbert's disease could be combated for a time and Ivan could find a way to leave the city. Maybe even leave the country. Of course he would ask Gilbert to come with him. But for all this to take place, they needed money. Fast money. Gilbert needed to survive and Ivan needed to stay hidden from the world.

An eerie musical sound traveled on the dead of the night, reaching his ears to attract his attention. Ivan recognized it as the circus music from the night before. He followed the tune to the park until he came upon the same set up of tents as before. Only this time, the sign did not advertise creatures of the night, but rather 'Ladies of the Dark'. Ivan noticed all the men going in and out of the tents. Gilbert's words about this place echoed in his ears, but Ivan couldn't resist heading over to the tents. He had always been a little on the curious side. As he approached the ticket booth, a thin man with a long cane stopped him.

"Hey there now, big fella! You can't come in here until you've paid!"

"Oh, I have no money. I was just curious."

"Curious about our Ladies of the Dark?" The man flashed him a very large smile. "Why are you all covered up, son? Got a disease?"

"I do."

"Then you'd best be on your way! None of these ladies would let you near them if you look like that and carry the plague!"

"Billy! Hold on a minute now!" Came another voice. Ivan looked over to see that Clifford, the ringmaster, had joined them. "Well, well, well! Welcome back, my good lad! Come alone, did you?"

Ivan nodded. "I was just out for a walk."

"Where is our favorite albino?"

"Resting."

Clifford twirled his mustache. "Hm. How is our little white rabbit doing? Have you come here to tell me that he has accepted my gracious offer?"

"He hasn't. Gilbert does not want to be shown off as a freak."

The man named Billy spoke then. "Ah, but it would be in his best interest! I know the albino you speak of! WE can get him to a hospital if he makes us enough money!"

Ivan brows rose. "Really?"

"Sure!" They both smiled widely at him.

Clifford wrapped his arm around Ivan's shoulders. "Just think, my good man! Picture it. Our lovely little albino as the White Devil. The White Demon. The White Siren!"

"Something with 'white' in it!" Laughed Billy.

Ivan scratched at his cheek. "But that wouldn't work. If Gilbert makes enough money to go to a hospital, then who will take his place here? You men wouldn't let him go."

"Nonsense!" Gasped Clifford. "He can heal himself at the hospital and then come back here! Why, if he helps me to bring in a hefty profit then I will even offer to help pay for the hospital. I am a business man, my dear…what is your name again?"

"Vanya."

"I am a business man, Vanya. I was born a poor soul, just like you and Gilbert, with nothing but the dark and dirty streets to look forward to every day. All I knew was darkness and despair. So one day, I thought, 'How can I use this to my advantage'? Then, it came to me! I gathered up as many performers, prostitutes, and oddities I could find!" He pointed to the tents with his cane. "I have given a home and an income to those who suffer just like you and Gilbert. These lonely, lost souls will never have anyone to care for them; to love and cherish them until the end of their days. If not for me, they would die alone, sad and depressed, without ever knowing one very powerful word: HOPE."

Ivan was pondering on the man's words. It was true he was giving these people a home and money, but is this right? "Mr. Clifford? Gilbert thinks it's wrong to have people pay money to look at…well…to look at people who aren't normal. It's mean."

Billy twirled his cane. "It's only mean if you're doing it for fun!"

"Billy is right, Vanya. You see, these oddities, these…'creatures of the night' cannot live in normal human society. People are naturally mean and cruel, especially to those who are different. Think about it. Every single person in this world is unhappy with their lives one way or another. They LOVE to see others who have it off worse than them. They will pay money to see other people suffering just to feel good about themselves."

Ivan moved away from him. "How does that help the people like Gilbert?"

"They get MONEY!" Clifford pinched Ivan's cheeks. "MONEY, my good fellow, makes the world go round! No normal man would hire these oddities! Look at our fair Gilbert! HE is a hard worker, but people FEAR him. So if he uses that fear to his advantage, he'll end up making money. Use your strengths even if they are what others fear. Fear is power."

Ivan looked at both Clifford and Billy's smiling facing. They did need to make fast money. Maybe they could even put on their musical performance here at the circus as well to gain MORE money. Gilbert said not to trust them, but sometimes you had to take a chance if you want to get ahead. "I will talk to Gilbert about what you said. If he chooses to do this, can I do it too?"

"Of course you can!" Clifford answered. "I will find a position for you, so don't you worry none!"

Ivan smiled. This was worth a shot. They didn't have any other options. "I'll be back soon then with my answer." Feeling content with the progress he had made tonight, Ivan strolled out of the park.

Billy tapped his fingers on the ticket booth top and Clifford chuckled, his big belly jiggling as he did.

"There's a sucker born every minute."

End Chapter 5 TBC


	6. Looking For A Savior

*****Sorry for the long update, but here it is! Thanks to my beta for her hard work! I'm honored so many of you are enjoying this fic! ^^ Read and review please!**

*****Warnings: Hardcore yaoi, language**

*****Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.**

**'Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now**  
**I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets**  
**looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets**  
**I've been raising up my hands**  
**Drive another nail in**  
**Just what God needs**  
**One more victim**

**- _Crucify_- Tori Amos**

**Chapter 6: Looking For A Savior**

When Ivan had made it back to the church it was still late in the evening and Gilbert would be asleep. This was something he had to tell Gilbert right away. It couldn't wait. He hurried up the stairs and into the room where Gilbert lay asleep, curled up tightly in a ball beneath the blanket. Ivan knelt down beside him, stroked the white hair, and softly woke him up with a soothing voice.

"Mmm…who is it?" Gilbert grumbled.

"It's Vanya. I need you to wake up now."

Gilbert slowly turned his head to blink tired eyes at his comrade. "What the hell for?"

"I have some good news! Well, you won't really like the news, but I think it's something we need to consider." He watched the albino sit up with a couple of grunts.

"Alright…" he scratched his chest. "What is it?"

"I…I went back to that circus and talked to Mr. Clifford-"

"Oh God!" Gilbert slapped a hand to his face. "You didn't buy into him, did you? He's a con artist, Vanya! Please say you didn't promise him anything!"

Ivan shook his head. "No, but please, hear me out. At the rate you are going with your sickness, you will surely die before the month is through. Making money at the circus is our best bet at getting you help." Ivan stopped the other before he could protest. "Just listen. The circus will give you food and a steady diet, which will help to combat your sickness. You won't have to sleep in rat-infested places. You'll have a bed to keep you warm. All these things will help you get better if you could just let go of your pride."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. All of those things were something he desperately craved, and he knew that Vanya was right. His sickness was growing worse by the day in these conditions, but could he really let go of his pride?

"Gilbert, may I ask you something?" Gilbert nodded. "What would your Fredrick tell you to do in this situation?"

Pink eyes slowly widened. "He would say…that my life was important. Too important to lose…and that I should keep on living. He's always said that."

Ivan smiled. "Then perhaps you should take his advice. I'm sure that wherever he is now, he would want to see you healthy. Yes, it will take a little while to build up money for a hospital, but it will be much faster at the circus. And we won't have the police after us all the time. All we have to do is pretend to be…freaks."

"I'm not a freak."

"Neither am I…but if it will help you to live, then I will gladly play one. We can still be Pestilence and Famine."

Gilbert smirked. "So…what did Clifford promise you?"

"He said that you would earn a share of the profits and he will help you find a doctor."

He took the larger man's hand in his own. "Vanya…he's lying to you. He will not give us any share of the money. He will take it all."

Ivan shook his head. "I believe differently. Perhaps he will not do all that he has promised, but he will split the money with you. He will just get a higher percentage, but imagine this, Gilbie. Every night going to bed with a full belly! Clean water to drink. A warm bed." He smiled. "Just think of all those things you can have if you just let go for a bit. If it's not working out, then we escape and come back here."

"But what if we can't escape?"

'I can escape from anything.' Ivan said to himself. "I will find us a way. I promise you. So please, please consider it, Gilbie?" Ivan pouted his bottom lip.

"Seriously? Don't give me that look!" Gilbert laughed. "You know this is going to suck dick for the both of us…but…" He sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."

Ivan's eyes lit up. "I'm glad, Gilbie! I'm glad!" He hugged him. "We'll both make this work, and you won't be there alone! I'll be there with you!"

Gilbert hugged him back. "Pestilence and Famine live once again. The only one's we're missing are War and Death…and Death is close by."

"But he won't be for long."

/

_The Following Morning_

Gilbert held on tightly to Vanya's hand as they slowly approached the circus tent. He swallowed hard, his brow twitching at the sight of the red and white striped tent. While Vanya had gone to sleep, Gilbert found himself wide awake pondering on what would become of him now. He couldn't go back on his word when Vanya was so thrilled that he had said yes. The man was working very hard to ensure that Gilbert could be healthy, even if he was easily misguided and gullible. Gilbert would have to keep a close watch on Vanya while they were here.

Here. HERE. The circus. The Freak Show. HERE he would be a freak for all to see. Yet in reality, the people treated him as a freak anyway no matter where he went. His albinism kept him from finding decent, honest work. The common folk saw him as misfortune, a demon, and a bad omen. Perhaps it was time to use those superstitious fears to his advantage. Now was the time to choose between pride and death. He could die with pride, but no one other than Vanya would know about it or mourn for him. But if he could manipulate and escape from death…then there was a good chance things could change. Maybe he can simply postpone death for a time.

"Gilbert? Are you ready?"

"Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Let's go."

They met up with Clifford, who was thrilled to see them. "My good friends! Welcome, welcome!" He gave a salesman's smile. "I hope you have taken into consideration my offer?" He focused on Gilbert.

Gilbert straightened his posture. "You're a business man, so let's start with my payment. How much share do I get of the profits?"

Clifford twirled his cane. "I know that's why you're here, Gilbie. I can't give you a solid price yet until we decide how to present you and how much to charge the public. But my good man Billy has some ideas that may help to drawl in a bigger crowd, which means we can charge more." Gilbert didn't look convinced.

"Then let us speak to this Billy." Said Ivan, squeezing Gilbert's hand.

"Excellent! Follow me." Clifford led them into his office wagon where Billy sat in a chair next to his desk. On the walls were framed pictures of past and present attractions. "Look who's here?" He said cheerfully.

"Why, it's Gilbie!" Billy stood up with a low bow. "So good to see you again! And you too, big fella!"

Gilbert was grinding his teeth.

Ivan spoke next. "Mr. Clifford said you have some ideas for Gilbert? We want the best you have that will bring in the most money."

Billy grinned. "Marvelous! I have some grand ideas!"

'This can't be good.' Gilbert said to himself but he was forced to listen.

The plan was to dress him up as a demon to go along with the superstition he was used to. The bastards mentioned that the public was going through a 'fear of judgment day' era where demons and monsters could wander the earth. Gilbert could only stare at them as they dictated their plan of make-believe. It was all a lie. A sham. They had drawn out the mechanics for his 'wings', using little metal, belts, and kite paper. There was even a tail that their tailor was going to make, twin tails. The two were still debating on what to do about horns, but they settled on saying that they would be 'invisible'. Gilbert would even have to be put in chains around his wrists and ankles, possible his neck, to show that he was 'constricted' and 'contained'. There would be a pseudo priest with him during the shows, which would act as the one that 'uses' holy divine power to 'contain' him in chains. So for the illusions to be harder to see, Gilbert would be kept in the dark with shaded light to give him a ghostly, frightening glow. Just an illusion. An illusion to trick people into paying to see what they want to believe is real.

"Can you be naked?" Asked Billy. Before Gilbert could answer in outrage, Clifford did for him.

"No, the people would see the harness for the wings. Minimal clothing will do well, just a long shirt."

"Why must he be barely dressed?" Ivan asked.

"Simple." Started Clifford. "Your little duo is dubbed Pestilence and Famine. Gilbert will represent Famine here as well. Being so pasty white and skinny only adds to the fear of judgment day." He scoffed. "Foolish nonsense if you ask me. Still, fear pays." He rubbed his hands together.

Ivan looked to Gilbert. "What do you say, Gillie? Anything you want to add?"

Gilbert shook his head. "No. They have this all planned out already, and they'll do what they want anyway. Now what about my friend here? What's in it for Vanya? What's his job and what's his share?" Ivan looked interested in that.

"Well, we already have disfigured people here." Answered Clifford. "However…since he helped to bring you here…I suppose we could tie him in with the whole judgment thing." He smiled. "That way the two of you can be together. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Ivan gave a nod and smiled hopefully at Gilbert, who just gave him a flat look.

"It's better than nothing." Answered Gilbert. "Now you two do the rest and leave us alone. I'm hungry. You promised us food. So feed us." He crossed his arms.

Clifford grinned. "Absolutely! Let me take you to our own Hefty Helga! She makes the best circus food!"

/

Food. There was food. Real food. Warm, fresh, bountiful food. Two pairs of hungry eyes sparkled at the amount of food that was placed in front of them to choose from. Once plate held slabs of cooked chicken, another fresh rolls, a big bowl of rice, and steaming beans. Clifford told them to eat until they felt sick, and that's just what the two intended to do. Fresh water and cider was even poured for them. Gilbert tore into the food, eating slab after slab of chicken. He almost stabbed his fork into the other's hand as he tried to take the last piece of chicken. Gilbert won, of course. Both of them ate until they felt sick and downed the fresh liquids. Afterwards, Gilbert lay face down on the table, his eyes crying silent tears at the simple joy of being full. His belly was warm and stuffed. He couldn't remember the last time he had a full stomach, not even when he was at the workhouse.

"Gilbert?" Ivan rubbed his back. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Vanya…just fine. I'm…full."

Ivan chuckled. "I am too. See? We made a good decision."

"Indeed you have." Clifford appeared from around the table. "You see? My offer isn't that horrible, now is it? Food, drink, and shelter are what you need. Shall I show you to your wagon? I've had one saved up just for you, my albino friend."

"What about Vanya?" Gilbert asked, wiping at his eyes.

"I would like to stay with Gilbert." Ivan said. "He is still ill and needs someone to look after him."

"Fine by me. Now then, let me allow you both to get settled in. Then, I will start planning the show, and you two will be our star attraction."

Ivan and Gilbert never let go of their hands as they followed Clifford to the last wagon in the circle. The sides were blank, but Clifford assured them that they would have a photo painting of themselves on here soon. The wagon was simple in setup inside. There was a bed, a chair, a dresser, a mirror, and a trunk. Clifford left them to get settled.

"Well Gilbert, what do you think?"

"Sure beats the church. I'll say that much." The albino looked around the wagon, and then sat on the bed. "It's not very soft…but better than a rotting floor." He lay back on it. "Firm. Think you can fit on here?" Ivan came over and laid beside him.

"A bit tight…but I think we can get used to it."

Gilbert chuckled. "I just sold my pride for food and a warm bed."

Ivan turned to him. "Do you regret it?"

"You know something? Right now I don't care. But when those people are gawking at me I'll remember the deal I made and how much I'll hate myself for it."

"But you will get better." He let Gilbert roll into him. "We're friends, and friends help each other out. I will suffer with you, and together we'll rise up from the slums of the street."

Gilbert smiled at him. "You really think we can do that?"

Ivan held him tight. "Maybe if you make yourself a smoldering demon you'll earn more money."

"Ah, sex sells, is what you're trying to say. Why then? Are you 'suggesting' something?" He grinned and straddled the other's waist.

"We can't do this, not if you're going to get better. No reason to combat two diseases, right?"

Gilbert pouted. "I'll never get to fuck you, will I?"

"I don't 'fuck'."

"You a monk, now?"

"No, I'm a gentleman."

"Oh please!" Gilbert gave him a soft slap on the cheek. "If you were such a gentleman you wouldn't be suffering from this disease!"

It was Ivan's turn to pout. "That's not always how it works."

Gilbert rolled off of him to lay back down. "Well, since we're not going to have any fun, I'm going to nap. My belly is full, I'm in a warm bed, and I'm with a trusted friend."

Ivan smiled sweetly. "I like when you say that, Gilbert. I never really had any friends."

"Yeah, we're both lonely bastards soon to be the stars of this circus."

"The best stars. And then, once we make enough, we'll leave this place. I promise." Ivan gave him a kiss on the head. "Let's both rest. I think we deserve it."

With a smile at his friend, Gilbert closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. He didn't know how long he had slept when he woke up. There was lots of movement in his wagon, which stirred him from his sleep. The first thing he noticed was that Vanya was not in bed with him. Concerned, he sat up and searched the wagon, hoping the person that was making noise was Vanya. He smiled when he saw the man near the mirror, and he was undoing his bandages! Gilbert lay back down to watch Vanya's reflection in the mirror. What did he look like? Would he be scared of his skin? Gilbert stared until the last bit of bandage was removed…and was shocked. Vanya wasn't scarred at ALL! He was perfectly clear! Flawless! Flawless and handsome. Gilbert sat up and called out to him.

"Vanya!"

Ivan jumped and spun around to see Gilbert awake and staring at him.

"Vanya, what's going on? You're not sick at all! Why were you hiding like that?"

Ivan stormed over to him, and without thinking, gripped the other by the throat.

Gilbert let out a gasp, bringing his hands to his neck to pry the other's hand away. "V-Vanya!" He gasped out.

"I won't go back!" Ivan hissed through grit teeth. "I wont' go back there! I won't!"

"S-stop!" He gasped for air.

Ivan squeeze tighter. "Don't send me back!"

"B-Back where?" Gilbert asked with a gasp. What was going on? "Stop! Please!"

"You've seen my face!"

"Y-yes! But…but why?" He felt his eyes bugging out of his skull as the other's grip tightened further.

"I WON'T GO BACK!"

"WHERE?!"

Ivan saw Gilbert's tongue darting out and his face turning a light shade of blue. He let go, gave Gilbert a moment to catch a breath, and then covered his mouth. "Listen to me. I will say this once. I am a wanted man. I escaped from a mental asylum. I killed people. They did horrible tests on me! Disgusting tests! I suffered horribly every day, every hour! You've seen those wanted posters! I'm that man! Ivan Braginski, that is my real name!"

Gilbert, his eyes wide, pointed at his mouth to ask to talk. Ivan let go. "Van- I mean, Ivan…calm down. Please…you're my friend. I'm not going to turn you in for money, not as a fellow sufferer." He spoke honest and true. "I don't care what you did or who you killed. You're my friend! We're suffering together! I won't turn you in."

Ivan sat on the bed, his head in his hands. "I'm sorry for attacking you like that. I just…blacked out. I didn't even think about what I was doing…I just did it. I attacked you. That must have been the same thing that happened the night I killed that man…or people. I really don't remember it. But I know I did it." He looked back at Gilbert. "This is me." He pinched his own cheeks. "I don't have Syphilis. I never did. I just need to hide my face and this was the best way. I'm sorry for lying to you…but can you blame me?"

Gilbert, still rubbing his aching neck, forced a smirk. "I can't blame you. This is a fucking shitty world we live in. Sometimes we have to lie just to get by."

Ivan lifted his eyes to pink ones. "So you…aren't angry with me?"

"Not at all. We've all done bad things. I don't judge. Just don't strangle me again, okay? I have a delicate body, you know." His smirk turned into a grin. "Since you aren't REALLY sick, you can't use that excuse any more, can you?" Ivan blushed. "Can you blame me for wanting to sleep with you?"

"We're friends, Gilbert."

"Gillie. I want you to call me Gillie from now on."

"Okay, Gillie." He smiled and took Gilbert's hand. "We don't have to sleep together to be close."

"Ivan, listen to me. All you have done for me…well…it is more than anyone has done." He blushed. "Even Fritz. I mean…you're trying to help me get better because we're friends. We are suffering together. We're becoming freaks together. And…" he swallowed hard, feeling his eyes fill with tears. "and I want to know what sharing your life with another person is like before I die."

Ivan stared at him. "We haven't known each other that long for such a commitment."

"So you don't want to spend the last few months or maybe years, of my life with me?" Gilbert felt the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"That's not what I meant." He gave a rough sigh. "I just mean…oh, I don't know."

Ivan stared at the floor as he gave Gilbert's offer some thought. They were going to be spending a lot of time together, and the man did promise true friendship. Gilbert won't turn him in, and he truly believes that. Ivan had never had another person to share his life with. He never really thought about it before. But could he really share his life with someone who had Death looming over their shoulder? Ivan figured the grief of a dying friend would be easy to take, but if there was love involved? If he let himself love Gilbert, who could not escape death since there was no actual cure, wouldn't that hurt him more in the long run? He remembered the hurt and grief over the tragic death of his mother; he still carried that grief with him to this day. Yet how could he let Gilbert die feeling unloved? Of course, there was always the miracle of Gilbert surviving his illness, but that was just wishful thinking. Even if he were to, say, find someone else, they could suddenly die just like his mother; hit by a car. Or get hit with a stray bullet, hit by a carriage, or fall off a bridge. So many things could happen…so should he take the chance?

"Sorry I asked." Gilbert turned away from him. "I feel so stupid now…I hope we can still be friends?"

Gilbert's answer came in a kiss, a rough and passionate kiss. He gasped into Ivan's mouth, feeling a tongue come wiggling its way inside. The sudden shock of being kissed wore off, and Gilbert started to kiss back. He wrapped his arms around Ivan's neck, pressing their bodies closer. Ivan broke away for a minute to run to the door and lock it from the inside. There were no windows, so they were completely alone. As Ivan was coming back, Gilbert had already stripped himself of his jacket. Ivan shredded his coat as well, letting it fall to the floor as he approached the bed. Gilbert hands flew to Ivan's wrists when the man started to lift his shirt.

"W-wait Ivan!" Gilbert pushed his shirt down, blushing. "I…I um…"

"What's wrong?" Ivan asked, panting heavily with lust.

"Well…my body isn't really 'pretty' to look at. Blow out the lantern so-"

"No." Ivan said firmly. "I don't care what you look like. You would still want to be with me even when you knew I was 'sick' and 'ugly'. Let me see you."

Gilbert blushed prettily. He had been naked before, but only for himself. The few times he'd been with a man, all he did were lower his pants, do the deed, and pull them back up. Never had he actually been fully naked with them, or with anyone. His body was ugly. It was sickly, pasty white with the faint tint of blue veins beneath the skin. He shivered when Ivan removed his shirt completely.

Ivan looked at Gilbert's almost hallow chest where he could see the beginning of ribs poking out. Gilbert's skin was white, but not a healthy white. His nipples were pink, like his eyes. Ivan wondered what his skin really felt like, so very gently, he reached his hands out to touch. He started at Gilbert's thin and narrow waist, which looked as if his fingertips could meet, it was so sickly thin. The clothing made him appear bigger than he was. The skin was very thin, almost like paper, and it was cold. Gilbert looked like death. Still, Ivan let his hands travel upwards, over the ribs, and to the pert pink nipples that he rubbed with his thumbs. Gilbert shuddered and gave a little squeak of a moan.

"I'm ugly, right?"

"No, Gillie, you're not ugly. You're sick. With good food you'll be bigger in no time."

"I hope so." He shyly turned back to look at Ivan. "You next." He watched Ivan strip himself of his shirt, showing still tone muscle with only the subtle hit of sagging due to lack of food. Ivan was bigger than he was; much bigger. He would be heavy lying atop of him.

"Now, it's your turn again." Ivan lowered his hands to Gilbert's pants, feeling the man trembling beneath his touch. He motioned for Gilbert to lie down as the pants were removed. Ivan looked at the semi-hard erection, and the patch of white it was nestled in. Ivan couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was so unusual, yet alluring. "It's white."

"What is? Oh…yeah-" he blushed and glanced to the side. "The rug matches the drapes, all right? No big deal." He looked back at Ivan. "Let's see yours, then! You're a very silvery blonde, so I bet it's black!" He smirked. Ivan stood on his knees, undid his belt, and lowered his pants for Gilbert to see. Gilbert was staring at the erection more than anything else. Feeling inadequate in more ways than one, he squeezed his knees closed.

"Does that answer your curiosity?"

"More than necessary." He glanced again. "And it's black…well, dark."

Ivan smiled. "I know that's not what you were looking at. Naughty Gillie."

Gilbert was ready to give him a snappy comeback, but then he noticed the light hairs on Ivan's chest and arms. "You're a hairy guy, aren't ya?"

Ivan pouted. "I got it from my father." He finished removing his pants so now he was naked above him. "Less talking, hm?"

The albino blushed. "Right."

So began the age-old dance of first time lovers. Ivan laid his body atop of Gilbert's, using his arms to keep most of the weight off of him while they kissed. Gilbert let his legs slide along Ivan's side and hips, getting a feel of the man's actual size. Two pairs of hands explored every inch of the other. Gilbert's were rubbing and lightly grazing the wide back with his nails every time Ivan touched a sensitive spot. Ivan rocked their groins together, creating a delicious friction that had Gilbert moaning pitifully. Ivan's lips trailed kisses along his neck, chest, and nipples, which he showered with extra attention. Gilbert gasped as Ivan's tongue swirled around the base before teeth gently nipped at the bud. The smaller man let out a cry of pleasure, arching into the other's talented mouth. Gilbert's loins were growing hot with need and his body was beginning to crave release. It had been so long since he'd been touched like this. He feared he might cum too early, which may insult his lover.

Gilbert wanted to cry when Ivan's lips moved away from his nipples to trail lower, kissing each rib that he passed. It was a bit embarrassing. But when those lips lightly nibbled and sucked on his belly, Gilbert felt his cock rise to stand at full attention. Ivan was dangerously close to that area…

Ivan let his lips travel down the flat belly to the other's groin where he couldn't help but nuzzle his nose in the patch of white. He heard Gilbert giggle above him. After a bit more of nuzzling and taking in Gilbert's scent, he brought his lips up to the tip. He gave the head a kiss, felt the other tremble with anticipation, and then took him down to the root. Gilbert let out a shrill gasp at his surprise action. He had never sucked on a man before, but he had it done to him in the past. It wasn't hard at all. Gilbert's hands were painfully gripping his hair, but Ivan didn't care. He bobbed his head along the length, swirling his tongue around the base and sucking hard. The albino thrashed and moaned in pleasure, arching hips to thrust further down his throat. Ivan wasn't used to this kind of work with his mouth and his jaw began to ache. When he lifted his mouth away, Gilbert gave a shrill cry and looked at him with alarm.

"Why did you stop? Are you mad? I was so close!"

"I want you to cum while I'm in you." 'I can make his last year on earth a pleasurable one at least.' "How do I take you? What should I do? What do you like?"

Gilbert wet his lips. "Um…I need to be stretched first. You know…in THAT area."

"Oh. I didn't know THAT area needed special attention." Ivan was a bit amused at that.

Gilbert rarely was ever prepped for sex when he sold his body. The men wanted it fast and cheap, a warm cavern to squirt off in. Suddenly, he felt too dirty for Ivan. He almost felt…soiled. And he was. "Ivan…does it bother you that I was with other men?"

"You did it because you needed to eat. You wouldn't have done so otherwise. I forgive you," He smiled "And I don't judge you."

Gilbert flashed him a huge grin with teary eyes. "I don't think you could understand just how wonderful it is to hear those words."

"I have a good idea." Ivan brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked to get them wet. He kept his eyes glued with Gilbert's as his tongue licked and swirled over his digits. Ivan knew what to do and how to do it. When his fingers were slick enough, he brought them down to rub at the tight pucker. Bringing Gilbert's trembling lips into a kiss, he slipped in his middle finger. Gilbert gasped into his mouth, and Ivan was sure he did the same. The muscles around him were burning hot and very tight. Gilbert's everything was small and narrow, which would be painful for his lover but heavenly for his cock. Ivan couldn't wait to be buried in that tight heat; to feel the muscles squeezing around him in agonizing pleasure. He pressed in a second, pushing deep. Gilbert was gasping in a steady mantra as those thin arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, holding him close. Finally, he added in a third and stretched them against the restricting muscles. That was when Gilbert pulled away to hiss.

"Ow! Too big." He said with one eye closed.

"If you can't take my fingers, then how can you expect to take me? I'm twice the size of my fingers." He spread them again. "You just have to get used to the feeling. I will probably hurt you going in, and you will tear and maybe bleed. You are so slender and frail…"

"I never used to be…" he trailed off, slowly becoming self conscience once again. "It's this damn," he gasped at a hard thrust of fingers "damn sickness of mine!"

Ivan pulled his fingers out, licked his palm, and slathered salvia on his cock to act as lubrication. "Maybe I can fuck it out of you?"

Gilbert's eyes widened, and then he laughed. "That would be the best medicine, getting better while having fun doing it!" He was reminded of his fear when Ivan settled between his legs. "I-Ivan…?"

"Sh. No more talking. I just want to hear your gasps, moans, cries, and pleas of pleasure or release." Ivan saw the panicked look on Gilbert's face and he wanted to ease that fear. Laying fully on top, Ivan threads his fingers with Gilbert's, squeezing their hands together. He had to prop himself up a bit more with the use of his elbows if he was going to begin penetration. "I'm going in…be strong for me, okay?"

Gilbert bit his lip, closed his eyes, and waited for the first stab of pain from entry. He felt Ivan's tip against his hole as it began to push forward. He held his breath as the head pushed past the tight outer ring, slowly stretching it. But he couldn't hold back his cry of pain when Ivan entered further. It was excruciating! There was no way Ivan could fit inside of him, not with how thin he was! "Stop, Ivan! Pull out! It hurts!" He begged through grit teeth.

"I can't stop now! Bare it for me a little longer…think of it as your first time…as virgin pain." Ivan shoved in further and faster, wanting the rest to be as quick as possible. That way it would be less painful. But Gilbert's scream suggested differently.

His pink eyes were wide with fear and flooded with tears. "Take it out! Please Ivan!"

"Bare with me a bit longer!" Gilbert was struggling to get away and out from under him, so Ivan had to move his hands to restrain the fleeing albino. He held the other's slim shoulders down and pushed the rest of the way in. Ivan let his eyes roll back in his head and he let out the breath he was holding. Being inside Gilbert was just as he imagined, tight and hot. By God above Gilbert's channel was narrow, and the muscles were clenching beautifully around him. He knew it had to be extremely painful for Gilbert right now, but there was nothing to be done until the thrusting started. First he had to let Gilbert adjust to his size and the entry.

He felt like his body had been split in two. Gilbert was crying and panting at the pain of Ivan's cock buried deep inside of him. It was like a huge burning rod was just shoved up his ass to break and burn his insides. This was a bad idea! He didn't think sex could hurt this much! And then, he felt warm lips on his cheeks, kissing away his tears. Slowly, he turned his head to face Ivan.

"I don't mean to hurt you, Gillie. The thrusting will feel better. I'm going to start moving."

Pink eyes widened. "NO! No please, pull out, Ivan! I'm begging you! I'll break! You'll break me!"

"You won't break. You're solid and you're strong! Gilbert Beilschmidt," he gripped Gilbert's chin, forcing the man to look at him. "You are going to be strong for yourself and fight this sickness! Start by being strong for me!" Ivan pulled out a bit and pressed back in.

Gilbert cried out. Ivan continued the thrusting, slow and gentle, pulling further out each time. Gilbert's face was a mask of pain and despair. The albino was feeling nothing but searing pain. Ivan had to find that special spot soon or he would lose some of Gilbert's trust. He wanted Gilbert to feel the same level of pleasure that he was feeling. He wanted to stay inside Gilbert's small and tight body forever. He almost wanted to lay claim to it; to make Gilbert his and his alone. Not for love, but for the primitive instincts buried deep within. Still, Gilbert was fighting him like a victim fighting off a rapist. He didn't want Gilbert to hold that sort of fear, not after everything the poor man has been through with prostitution. Trying something a little different, Ivan pulled out further, angled himself, gripped narrow hips, and slammed back in. To his delight, Gilbert arched off the bed, his eyes flew wide, and he screamed in pleasure. Found it!

Ivan wasted no more time in being slow or gentle. Now it was just the animal lust of sex driving him on. His hands were firmly set on Gilbert's hips, lifting the man's bottom off of the bed to pull the other onto his cock. Gilbert weighed nearly nothing, and all Ivan had to do was move the man on and off of his dick, which he did. All Gilbert could do was grip at the sheets and thrash in the heat of passion while his ass was rammed over and over again. Ivan felt he was being too rough. No, he KNEW he was being too rough with such a delicate person. But Gilbert had wanted this, and now he had it. There was no going back now.

"Feel better?" Ivan asked with a gasp and a thrust.

"AH! Ye-yes!- AH!" It was still painful, but the pleasure from that little spot was enough to ward it off. "More…Ivan." He pleaded.

And Ivan delivered. Gilbert had to bite at his bottom lip to keep from screaming in pleasure and pain; he didn't want the others to hear them. It would raise questions and unnecessary suspicion. Ivan's weight was crushing him as the thrusts grew more powerful. Gilbert threw his arms around the wide back, dragging his nails down the skin to leave small red marks. The pounding of that hard cock forced to drive his nails deeper into Ivan's skin, drawing blood. He bit into the other's neck to hold back his cries while trembling hands clawed at the back in white-hot pleasure. Ivan was fucking him hard. It was hurting so good! Gilbert feared the large cock would burst through his lower stomach, and if it did, then he would die in pure pleasure. He was no match for Ivan's strength, weight, endurance, and speed. All he could do was lie there and clutch at his lover while his body was fucked hard and raw. This was the first time he was having sex that he really had wanted. And God above, did it feel good! His eyes opened, welling with fresh tears as Ivan's punishing thrusts grew faster. Gilbert broke his mouth away to let out strangled cries of pleasure. The speed of Ivan's thrusts were too much for him to cry out loud. There was a building in his lower belly. His toes curled; his back arched, and his arms clenched at the strong back as the build up was nearing its end. With fresh tears pouring down his cheeks like a waterfall, and an opened mouth smile of relief, Gilbert shuddered violently and came between them. His cock was pressed against Ivan's stomach and his cum coated the skin between them, hot and wet.

Ivan let out a strangled, pleasured growl of his own when Gilbert's muscles clenched painfully around him. With another thrust or two he exploded inside the smaller man. It had really been too long since he had last cum, and it showed. Panting heavily, he pulled out of Gilbert's welcoming body to look at the damage (if any) he had done. Gilbert's hole was red and started to swell with the excess of his cum trickling out. Some of the white substance was tinted with blood, but those inner tears would heal. He looked at Gilbert, who was flat on the bed with his face flushed and eyes wide with afterglow. Ivan couldn't help but smile with pride. He had actually fucked him senseless. However, there were multiple bruises on the frail body; finger prints, dark purple and blue. His own shoulders ached from Gilbert's clawing, but those were considered sex battle scars. Yet with rough fucking there had to be some tenderness. Ivan laid down beside him, brought Gilbert's face to his own, and lightly kissed him. He was thrilled when Gilbert responded to the kiss, lifting a thin hand to stroke his cheek. Ivan purred, and wrapped his arms around Gilbert's body to pull him close in a lover's embrace. Gilbert's arms were securely locked around his neck, and his own around the narrow waist.

"I apologize if I was too rough…but it's been so long for me."

"It's alright. I'm used to pain…and it was a good pain." Gilbert whispered against his cheek. "Will you…stay with me like this?"

Ivan smiled softly. "I will. I hope that we can both go to bed together at night and wake up next to each other for a long, long time."

Gilbert rests his head on Ivan's chest, not wanting the man to see him start to cry. His body was shaking with sobs, joyful sobs. Ivan cared for him! Ivan may even love him! Love…a word he thought he had lost when Fredrick had died. But he had growing love for this man holding him in a tender embrace, as one would their true love. Was Ivan to be his light in this dark, dark world? Was Ivan his only star in a starless night? Whatever Ivan was going to be to him, Gilbert eagerly welcomed it.

"Everything is going to change now. Our world will be different." Gilbert finally spoke when he was able to find his voice.

"Sometimes, change is better. And you're not alone, Gillie. I'll be right here with you for as long as you need me."

Gilbert clung to Ivan and let his sobs of relief and joy be freely heard. He couldn't be happier than he was at this moment!

/

Outside the wagon, Billy was strolling by when he happened upon the unmistakable noise of fucking. He leaned his ear against the wall of the wagon, hearing the name 'Ivan' called over and over again. The wagon was rocking. Billy's smile slowly turned into a mischievous grin as an idea had just come to him.

"I have to tell Clifford about this! We'll be fuckin' RAKING the money in!"

End Chapter 6 TBC


	7. On With The Show

*****Another fast update! Whoo! I'm getting better at this! Thank you for all the constant support and reviews, guys! Please, read on and enjoy! ^_^**

*****Warning: Language, minor yaoi**

*****Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic. **

**'_Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination.'- Mark Twain_**

**Chapter 7: On With The Show**

"Cliff! Cliff!" Billy burst in to the office, shutting the door and locking it behind him. "You won't believe this!"

Clifford looked up from a pile of paperwork. "This had better be good."

"I caught our two new arrivals fucking in their wagon!"

"And this effects me how?" He asked with annoyance.

Billy grinned. "There's more than one reason that will interest you. First, that big guy, Vanya? Well, Vanya is not his real name. His real name is Ivan."

"Ivan, you say?" Clifford tapped the tip of the pen against his lips. "The name you speak does ring a bell. But where have I heard it before? It is an unusual name for this part of region."

"Wait, isn't that wanted posted in the city have a guy with the name 'Ivan'?"

Clifford gasped. "You know, you're right! The police have been here before searching for him. They say he is a very big man with purple eyes and a big nose."

"Our Ivan has purple eyes and a big nose." Billy took a deep breath. "Cliff…that's four thousand dollars right there. Four thousand dollars is SITTING in our wagon fucking the new main attraction! I say we turn him in for the gold!"

"No." Clifford folded his hands. "I have a much better plan. You see, dear Billy, I want Gilbert to stay here with me. He's Ivan's fuck buddy, and who knows? Maybe they're 'in love'. I need Ivan working on OUR side to keep Gilbert here. I have a whole new idea to add to Gilbert's demon mirage, but I need our lovely albino to comply. Ivan will help us do that, especially if they are fucking each other."

"What is your new idea? How the hell can it be better than four thousand dollars?"

Clifford gave a dark and devious smirk. "We'll talk with 'Vanya' tomorrow."

/

Gilbert lay in Ivan's arms, his cheek firmly planted over the steady heart beat. No matter how hard he tried, the tears just wouldn't stop coming. Ivan was stroking his head while trying to soothe and comfort him. It was working, but it didn't stop the tears. Gilbert would never forget this moment that they shared together. Ivan didn't just fuck him and leave. Ivan was here with him, laying beside him, and giving him the love and comfort that he needed in this dark time. This was one of his happiest times in all his years of life with the first being having met Fredrick. Which reminded him, he still had the flute. He wished he could write a song for the both of them; a song dedicated to both Fritz and Ivan for being the warm light in his cold, dark world. But he couldn't write music, only play it. He had to give back something before he died.

"Gilbert? Why are you still crying?"

"They're happy tears, Ivan. Don't worry about it." He smiled. "I'm just really happy. Maybe you don't love me right now but you will. Don't you worry about that!" He lifted his head and body to look at Ivan's face. Gilbert forced more tears back when Ivan wiped an existing one away with his thumb.

Ivan returned the smile. "You'll be alright, Gillie. Everything is going to be fine from now on. Whatever trials are thrown at us we'll work together."

Gilbert let out a sob and a chuckle. "Ivan…those few little words have meant the world to me. They were more valuable than gold."

"Well…as they say…money can't by happiness."

Gilbert raised a brow. "That's a bunch of horseshit."

Ivan chuckled. "It is, but it sounds right at this time." He brought Gilbert in to a chaste kiss. "Sleepy yet? Because I am."

"Of course! Good sex on a full belly? Who couldn't ask for more?" The albino flopped onto the bed. "And now some much needed sleep." He turned to Ivan. "With you by my side."

"Always." Ivan took Gilbert's hand and held it tight between them.

" 'Always' is the wrong word to use." Gilbert's voice softened then, and his tone became sad. "I'm not going to be here forever."

"Same goes for me. I could die tomorrow from a freak accident, and so could you." Gilbert was silent. "Let's just make the most of the time we have."

The albino smiled. "Okay…sounds good! Just promise me that you'll be here with me when I wake up?"

"I promise."

He held the albino close, watching the pale face slowly relax in to peaceful sleep. Poor Gilbert, he suffers so much and will be made to suffer further with this circus. But it was all for the chance to extend his life, even if only by a few months. Ivan hoped that he wasn't making a mistake by taking this chance with Gilbert. The albino was a loyal friend; faithful and true to those who treat him nicely. Gilbert deserved to be loved and respected, and Ivan could give him that. Yet in the end, who would suffer the most? Gilbert will die and all his emotions and thoughts will be wiped away. Ivan figured he would live on with just the memories of this sickened little albino rabbit begging for love in a treacherous world that showed no mercy. Ivan only hoped that in the end he would be strong enough to accept Gilbert's death and continue on with his life. There was a saying he remembered his father speaking of after their mother died. 'She is dead; I'm not'.

It took Ivan some time to figure out exactly what those words meant, and when he did, it had changed his outlook on life and death. He will love Gilbert until the day he dies. Gilbert will be part of the earth; buried in the dirt in an endless sleep of peace and tranquility. Ivan will be left to suffer, but his father's words promised change and chance. While he was still alive he could make things better for himself. He can heal the wounds left by Gilbert's death with other means. The world shouldn't have to stop because of one life changing event. Ivan would miss Gilbert, of that he knew. He would never tell Gilbert any of this even though he knew that the albino would understand. Some things were better left unsaid.

Now Gilbert was snoring beside him, and Ivan felt himself smiling. It gave him great joy to know that he had brought some happiness into Gilbert's life this night. Tomorrow their lives would change, but hopefully for the better. So Ivan pulled him close and fell asleep with his precious albino snuggled in his arms.

/

The morning came and went. Gilbert had stuffed himself fat on bread and flat cakes while Ivan followed close behind, only he chose to add fresh eggs. After breakfast, Gilbert was taken by the tailor to get his demon outfit fitted and worked on. Ivan was left to do a little bit of cleaning in the animal wagons, mainly scooping out piles of dung and clumped pee into a wheelbarrow. As he was pushing the wheelbarrow to the dumping area, he heard people approaching. Turning around, he saw that it was Clifford and Billy, both wearing large smiles. Ivan frowned beneath his bandages, wondering what the men were wearing smiles about.

"Vanya! Good afternoon to you!" Said Clifford. "Billy and I would like to see you in our office for a moment. Take a break why don't you?"

"Okay." Ivan dropped the wheelbarrow, removed the gloves, and followed the men into the office wagon. Billy offered him a chair in front of the desk, which Ivan took with gracious thanks. Billy went around the desk to stand with Clifford, both still wearing those same smiles. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all." Said Clifford, folding his arms. "We want to discuss some of Gilbert's demon features and ideas with you."

"…okay?"

Billy spoke first. "Listen carefully. I was walking by your wagon when you were fucking the albino."

Ivan stared at him, his whole body frozen on the chair.

Billy continued. "I heard Gilbert calling your name: Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. Over and over again." He grinned.

Ivan smacked his lips before answering. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Clifford answered. "There is nothing to fear from us, Vanya. Or should we say, Ivan Braginski."

Ivan's eyes widened and he took in a gasp. "How did-"

"We made the connection." Answered Clifford. "You see, the police were here some time ago asking about you. Sometimes when people want to disappear from the world, they come to an establishment like mine and try to hide. Be warned, the police do come here from time to time." He saw the glare of fury in Ivan's eyes. "However, the police will NEVER have you. YOU, Ivan Braginski, are MINE. I own you now. Keep your mirage of a diseased man for it is working."

Ivan just stared at him. "Why would you not turn me in? The prize money can do wonders for your circus."

Clifford smiled. "Indeed, it can. However, that money can come and go. You, however, can earn me MORE money by remaining here!" He grinned. "If you don't want us to turn you in, then you have to make yourself extra useful to us while living here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Billy started "Clifford has your answers to that."

"You see, Ivan, we really need Gilbert here to bring in the money." Clifford said. "I have a new plan to help increase our pay. We will sell many small vials of rats' blood, claiming them to be 'demon blood'. During show time, however, you must drain the blood from Gilbert into a small bowl. You will in turn give this bowl to Billy, who will 'bottle it' and get it ready for sale."

Ivan just stared at him. "So you…won't turn me in if I only help you bring in profit?"

"Precisely!" Billy said with a grin. "We'll show you how to do it, and it won't be that much blood. Gilbert trusts you, so who better to take his blood than a trusted friend? BUT. There is still another way for you both to earn extra gold." Billy wiggled his brows.

Ivan swallowed hard. "What do you have in mind?"

Clifford stood up from the desk. "A priest fucking a demon of famine will draw in many customers. The display of public sex behind tent walls is a great way to earn extra money. To make things simple, this is what we want you to do. You will be the pseudo priest who has control over the Demon Angel Famine. You will drain his blood, and then you will fuck him. You will only fuck him during the night when it is a strict 'men only' code."

Ivan shook his head. "Gilbert would never do it. He would never have sex in front of people. I know for certain draining his blood would drive him over the edge. He is so weak and ill to begin with that bleeding him seems like something that may kill him. Is there any other way?"

Clifford sighed. "If you want to be turned in, then yes. If you wish to remain free and have my protection from the police," He leaned over the desk with a dark smile "You will get Gilbert to comply with our terms. You WILL work hard to achieve this, Ivan Braginski. Fail us and I will turn you in. Bring us in a hefty profit, and you and your albino lover will be living the high life! Gilbert will live longer, and you shall be free. The choice is yours."

Without another word, Ivan nodded his head. He shook their hands while their mouths were muttering something that he could not hear; he was too much in shock to comprehend. How could he say no to such blackmail? These men had the power and authority to turn him in to the police. Ivan couldn't go back to the asylum. He would rather suffer in Gilbert's place tenfold to avoid going to that horrid place.

As he wandered aimlessly out of the wagon, he thought back to those terrible times: that tiny cell, that straight jacket, those men in white shirts, the drugs, the needles, everything. Ivan had to stop to rest on a bench or else he would collapse. His legs were weak, his body numb, and his mind running rampant with memories. Dark memories. He could still picture the room where all these horrors took place. He remembered the smell most of all. It smelt of iron, metal, medicines, and _death._ People had died that room in excruciating pain and terror in the name of '_medical science_' as it was once told to him. And that table, the medical examination table. Always dirty, always rusty. The floor around it was always stained with blood and other things. And then there were the belts. The feeling of being completely restrained while doctors did nothing but cause pain threatened to make him lose the contents of his stomach.

He couldn't go back there. He couldn't. Some might say he is selfish, but none of them have experienced what he had. So who were they to talk? Yes, he did care for Gilbert, but nothing in this world would force him to go back. If he had to make Gilbert compliant to this whole showbiz nonsense, then that's what he'll have to do. He can make it up to Gilbert in other ways.

"Ivan!"

Ivan looked up at the sound of his name to see Gilbert coming over to him with a piece of candy. "Hey."

"The candy guy gave me this thing! It's a sucker! It has rainbow colors in it!" Gilbert happily licked the rounded hard candy on a stick. "What's wrong? You look sad."

"Oh…it's nothing, really. Just having some…flashbacks of a darker time in my life."

"Your mom's accident?"

"Not exactly." He glanced up at Gilbert. "They know my real name is Ivan."

Gilbert lowered his sucker. "How do they know?"

"Billy walked by the wagon last night when we were- "

"Oh. THAT." Gilbert blushed, but smiled. "Well…so long as they don't know your FULL name you're safe. I keep thinking about last night too." He licked the sucker. "I'm hurting now…but it was well worth it."

"Good. I'm glad." Ivan stood up. "Gilbert-"

"Gillie. Call me Gillie, remember?"

"Gillie…please don't think me rude, but I really, really need to be alone right now."

Gilbert tilted his head to the side, lowering his sucker. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm here to talk to if you need it."

Ivan forced a smile. "I understand, but this is something that you cannot help with unless you've been there."

White brows furrowed. "I can try to understand if you'd tell me?"

Ivan shook his head. "Please, Gillie, just leave me be for now, okay? I promise I'll talk to you later. For right now, I want to be alone."

"Sure, whatever. Come find me later. I'll be around."

Gilbert angrily sucked on the candy as he watched Ivan walk away without so much as a word of 'goodbye'. They had fucked like wild rabbits last night, and now Ivan was shoving him off because of 'bad memories'? That wasn't fair to say. Gilbert shouldn't be angry over Ivan's personal issues. The man was still fairly private about his life, keeping many of the details to himself. He shouldn't give his lover a hard time.

"Gilbert, my dear boy!" Gilbert cringed at the sound of Clifford's voice.

"What is it?"

Clifford twirled his cane as he approached. "How was your fitting?"

He lowered the sucker. "Fine, I guess. I'm not too happy about hardly wearing any clothes. Only a ripped top."

"Ah, but you are representing 'famine'. Best to look the part, yes?" He twirled his mustache. "I'm glad I found you. Please, come in to my wagon so we can discuss a few things about your 'performance'."

Gilbert followed the plump man into the wagon, sucking loudly on his candy on purpose as he took a seat. Clifford sat across from him at the desk.

"Do you like that candy?"

"Sure do!"

"I'm thrilled to see you enjoying yourself. Now then, onto business." Clifford took out a couple of papers. "How do you feel about bloodletting?"

Gilbert raised a brow. "Bloodletting? Isn't that cutting your skin to let the blood leak out?"

"Yes. Would you be willing to give some blood during performance times?"

"Hell no! What do you want my blood for? I cough up the damn stuff daily! I don't want it leaking out of my arms too!"

Clifford put his hands up. "Hear me out first. We will be selling your blood, but it won't actually be yours. It will be rats' blood in small vials. What we will need is for you to give a bit of blood, we'll take it in the back, pretend to bottle it, and then sell the people the rats' blood in its place."

"Might I ask why we are selling blood?" The idea of it made him shudder.

"Superstition, of course." Clifford chuckled. "People are easy to fool when they believe what they see. I plan to market it as an 'all healing' blood source. Maybe not 'all healing'. Perhaps a 'good luck charm' of sorts? The blood of a famine demon could work OPPOSITE and make a person's life full and bountiful. Or maybe an aphrodisiac?"

"But that's lying."

"That's business." Clifford smiled. "I will give you a quarter of the gross payment."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "I want half."

Clifford gave a full belly laugh. "That's rich! Oh, so rich! No, no, no, my dear boy. You will get a quarter of the gross profit. However…" he wiggled his large fat brows. "There is a way I'm willing to let you earn HALF of the gross payment."

"…go on?" Gilbert gave his sucker a slow lick.

"We know you were making love with 'Ivan' last night. Are you two an item?"

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders. "I guess we are. Ivan hasn't really said yet." What was Clifford trying to get at?

"How would you like to add a little sex to your performance? With your lover, Ivan, of course."

"WHAT!?" Gilbert shot up from the chair in outrage. "NO! No, I won't do that! That's horrible! You want Ivan to fuck me in front of people?"

"Men. Only men. It will be during my 'Dark Creatures of the Night' show. It's once a week. You would perform your normal ritual, and then you will let Ivan fuck you. I plan to make Ivan the priest who holds you captive. A priest fucking a demon. Think about it."

"Oh, I thought about it, and my answer is still 'no'. Have you asked Ivan yet?"

"I did. He's thinking about it."

Gilbert's brows shot up. "Oh he is? Well, I'm going to talk about it with him! I've agreed to a lot already, Clifford, and I'm willing to work things out. But this…what you're asking…it's wrong." He blushed softly. "Sex should be something private."

Clifford nodded. "True, it should. However, that is not how it always works. In fairytales and certain situations, perhaps, but not all the time. What you need right now, Gilbert, is MONEY. Your health and your life are at stake. I'm offering you the best ways to make money. Are they cruel and disgusting ways? Yes, they are. BUT, you must remember that the world is a disgusting place. I cater to this dirty world so that I can live happily and well. We only have one life, so why waste it suffering if you don't have to?"

Gilbert saw that Clifford had a valid point, but he wouldn't tell the man that. The door to the wagon opened and they both turned to see Billy walking in. Gilbert ignored the man and continued. "I'll talk it over with Ivan. Although he will take my side. Good day sir." Gilbert took a loud suck of his sucker and pranced out of the wagon.

"What the hell was that about?" Billy asked. "Don't tell me he doesn't agree to the sex thing?"

Clifford chuckled while slicing a cigar. "Oh, he doesn't agree with it. Not at all." He lit the cigar and puffed. "So much pride that albino rat has! It tickles me pink!" He blew out a gray cloud. "He's a beggar. A beggar and a street rat that claims to have 'virtues' and 'morals'. He has nothing." Clifford leaned back in his chair.

"But what are we going to do about the sex part? You don't think Ivan will take his side, do you?"

Clifford smiled at his cohort. "Quite the contrary. Ivan will get Gilbert to do anything and everything we say. I have no fear of him taking Gilbert's side in this. You don't remember Gilbert as I do. I've seen the man desperate and scared. He'll cling to anything that shows him the slightest bit of love and respect. Gilbert's a whore to affection."

It was Billy's turn to chuckle. "There's a sucker born every minute."

"I know. Pity, isn't it?" Clifford rests his cigar between his fingers. "And we shall play the kind and doting bosses. We'll praise Gilbert often for his compliance, like rewarding a dog for good behavior. Whenever he is feeling sad or used, we console him. Pretend that we care. We'll have Gilbert begging for our affection and attention in no time. Let him see how generous we are."

Billy took the seat previously occupied by Gilbert. "We're too good at what we do."

"Indeed."

/

Gilbert smiled at Hefty Helga as the massive woman brought over his bowl of beef stew. His eyes sparkled and he thanked her graciously before gobbling it up. Warm stew! Warm, warm, warm stew! His belly was SINGING right now! Once he had finished, Gilbert decided to take a little break and play his flute. He sat upon a barrel, took out the flute, put it to his lips, and started to play. The tune caught the attention of the other sideshow circus workers and they gathered around to listen. Gilbert paid them no mind but lost himself in the cheery tune. It had been a long time since he had last played this song. He swore never to play it again because it was one of Fritz's favorites. But he had to stop when he caught sight of Ivan.

"Vanya!" He called him by the fake name. Clifford and Billy may know his real name, but that doesn't mean the others have to know. "Vanya!" He hurried over to him.

"Hello Gilbert."

"Feeling better?"

"A little." Ivan smiled and took Gilbert's hand in his own. "I think I'm ready to talk now. Let's go back to our wagon."

"Hm. Good idea. I have a few things to discuss with you as well."

"I'm all ears."

When they were in the wagon with the door locked it was Gilbert who spoke first. "Dumb and dumber said that they spoke to you about public fucking between you and me for extra money. I told them no, and I said you would say no too. Am I right?"

Ivan looked at him for a moment and then took a seat on the bed. "It's not such a…bad idea, Gilbert."

The albino gasped. "What? Are you saying you are FOR this? Sex is something special, Ivan! We were making love last night! I don't want to display that for the disgusting viewing pleasure of men!"

"It won't be all the time." Ivan answered softly.

"No, it won't, but once is unacceptable!" he sat next to Ivan. "What we have is special, Ivan. I don't want to share that with others."

"And I don't either…but we need the money." Ivan gently took Gilbert's chin in his hand. "YOU need the money. The faster we raise money, the sooner you get to a doctor. We have to make sacrifices, remember?" Gilbert stared at him but only nodded sadly. "Well, I'm making my own sacrifice now. I'm sacrificing our sex life for the sake of your health. I don't want to do all this either, but when it comes to you, I would do anything to see you safe."

Ivan nearly choked on the last sentence when he saw Gilbert's face alight with emotional joy and tears. He wasn't sacrificing THEIR relationship or happiness; he was sacrificing Gilbert's for his own sake. The two were blackmailing him, and it was working. Just like those two bastards, Ivan was also lying to Gilbert by playing on his emotions and vulnerability. Yes, he did care for Gilbert and wanted to see him healthy, but he'd be damned if he'd let Gilbert's stubborn pride get him sent off to the asylum again. If staying away from that horrid place came at the expense of Gilbert's pride, then so be it. Gilbert would thank him in the end.

"Ivan…you're making me blush!" Gilbert nearly giggled. "You're willing to sacrifice to see me safe! While I'm still against it and always will be…I'll do it for you." He answered softly. "You've done so much for me…and if you think this will really work…then I'll do it." He hugged him. "I'm so glad I found you, Ivan! You mean the world to me!"

Ivan was slow to hug him back, feeling the guilt deep within him beginning to fester and rage. 'Forgive me for this, Gilbert'. "This will all be over soon. I will be the priest controlling you."

Gilbert nodded, his blush growing brighter. "You know…I still don't approve of all this. But money is money. I only hope that…my first act tomorrow night…won't weaken my resolve. What if I can't go through with it?"

"You will. You'll be able to do it because you need to, Gillie. Your health is at risk and we need to make it better."

Gilbert nodded before gently guiding him back onto the bed. "You know…the idea of a priest and a demon fucking is kind of…well…exciting." He blushed hotly as his groin rubbed against Ivan's. "But I want it to be only us, in the privacy of our wagon."

Ivan stroked the pale cheek. "We have to do it. You will swallow your pride, and you will do it. It has to be done. We need the money. I will do all the work. All you have to do is lay there and take it. We need to cater to these filthy men who get a joy out of this."

"But…" Gilbert couldn't finish his sentence when Ivan flipped him over onto his back.

"Think of it as just an act." Ivan told him. "We will fuck when told to. But behind closed doors like this, you and I will always make love. I will have to act like a cruel man when I am dressed as a priest. But it is all an act. We need the money to make you better…and I care so much for that…that I am willing…willing to…to…" He couldn't finish his statement because he KNEW he was LYING. It felt wrong. Very wrong.

"Ivan…don't finish." Gilbert gripped his face in his palms. "I know it's hard for you too." He felt the tears welling up in his eyes. "You're fighting your emotions…that's nothing to feel guilty about!" Gilbert reached out to hug him. "You've made me so happy, Ivan! I love you so much! Even if you don't love me fully right away, that won't stop me from fully loving you!" He kissed him.

Ivan was still as stone for the kiss. He, like all the others, was taking advantage of Gilbert. First it was the workhouse, then the police officers, then the few men he'd been with, then Clifford, and now HIM. How could he do this?

"I want a repeat of last night." Gilbert asked softly with a smile. "Make love to me again, Ivan. Please?"

Ivan spread the pale legs and rests their groins together. Making love when Gilbert asked for it was the least he could do to calm his guilt. He was gentle this time, which was a mistake because Gilbert kept moaning out how much he loved him. The shame and guilt were eating away at him.

/

The following evening had finally come and on with the show.

Gilbert was seated in the far back room of his performance tent with the makeup lady. Her name was only 'Rouge' and she specialized in painting the faces of the circus members. Gilbert had his eyes closed while she applied various smelly powders onto his lids with tickling brushes. Outside the tent he could hear Billy's loud and chipper voice speaking of him to the crowd. He was fully dressed in his Demon Angel Famine attire. The tattered shirt he wore went only to mid-thigh and the sleeves were short. The fabric was just enough to hide the leather straps across his chest, which attached the white bat wings to his back. The fabric of the wings, the kite paper, was light and it flopped around as he moved; as if they were actual wings. Sprouting from the center of the wings was his long demon tail, which the shirt would also help to hide. In the dim light no one would be able to tell. The shackles were placed around his wrists and ankles but the chains had not been attached.

When Rouge stated she was finished, Gilbert opened his eyes to look upon himself in the mirror. Rouge had panted his lips a soft white so they were now and even paler pink. His eyes were encircled with blackish color giving the appearance of smoke. She had painted some sort of black and red symbol on his forehead. Gilbert was surprised with how much he actually looked like a demon. His body was still pale and ugly; that would never change. He thanked her as she packed up her makeup box and left the tent. Shortly after, Ivan entered in his 'priest' uniform.

Gilbert gazed upon him. Ivan was supposed to be the diseased priest cast out from God's house and was given a demon of famine to look after. He wore the traditional priest garb, a long black robe complete with high collar and cross. Gilbert had his own little backstory. He was a failed demon from Hell, cast out from the inferno to suffer on earth; but God had different plans and gave him to Ivan. Gilbert was told to act weak, sickly, and scared. He was to shy away from 'humans' and Ivan would force him to move around with his chains. They had all this morning to practice. Ivan's stage name as this rebel priest was 'Rasputin' while his was simply 'Famine'.

"How do I look?" Gilbert asked him.

Ivan cleared his throat. "Like an incubus." He had to admit that Gilbert looked strangely alluring dressed as a faux demon. They wouldn't be having sex tonight, but Ivan would have to 'bleed' him. Bleed him and beat him. Not hard, but enough to give the illusion that Gilbert was a slave. They didn't practice it and Ivan was contemplating on giving his lover the warning. The only thing he feared was Gilbert backing out and ruining everything for them. Clifford had told him to use the riding crop to boss Gilbert around while reminding him about the blackmail. Once again, Ivan had no choice.

"Gillie…whatever happens out there tonight…remember that it is all part of the show. Nothing is real."

"I know that." Gilbert took a deep breath. "It's close to show time." He held out his wrists with a little blush. "Chain me?"

Ivan took the chain hooks and looped them with the shackles. He swallowed hard at the sight of Gilbert chained. Outside the tent, they could hear Billy getting ready to announce their arrival.

"AND NOW FOLKS, WE GIVE YOU, THE DEMON ANGEL FAMINE!"

'Here we go.' Ivan said to himself. 'I pray all goes well and that Gilbert will forgive me.'

They pushed the tent flap open and walked out to the sight of gasping onlookers.

**End Chapter 7 TBC**


	8. Why?

***Quick update! Thanks for the support everyone!

***Warnings: Language, minor violence

***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

Chapter 8

Gilbert's first instinct was to close his eyes the moment the audience appeared before him. He could hear their gasps of surprise or shrieks. When he finally opened his eyes he could see the people staring intently at him. The women shrieked while backing away with their children, the smaller ones whining in terror. Most of the men didn't seem affected by him, but a few had to cover their mouths, as if they were disgusted by him. And maybe they were. Gilbert didn't think these people would actually be afraid of him! He thought they would be surprised and curious about him. These people were acting out against him as they always have with fear and loathing. He was a bad omen. He brought bad luck and misfortune upon good people. This wasn't what he had expected. Gilbert wanted to retreat back behind the curtain but Clifford and Billy were nearby, watching him. There were also the chains around his wrists and ankles holding him where he was. He glanced up at his lover, hoping for some silent reassurance. Instead, his lover was staring at Clifford.

"Demon," Ivan said firmly "Stand up!"

Gilbert stared up at him, his pink eyes wide with disbelief. He knew Ivan told him it was only acting, but that tone of voice was so harsh. On reflex, Gilbert answered. "No." What happened next both shocked and terrified him. He was unprepared for the sudden pain of the riding crop across his face. Gilbert held his stinging cheek, looking up at Ivan with eyes asking, 'what are you doing?'

"I said 'stand up', demon! Obey your master!"

Gilbert cautiously stood up, holding out his arm to block any more possible oncoming blows. But as he stood, he remembered how short his skimpy shirt was so he tried to pull it further down to keep some modesty. Suddenly, something struck Gilbert in the head, but it wasn't Ivan's whip. A kid had thrown a rock at him! The little boy was laughing cruelly at him and making obnoxious silly faces. Gilbert couldn't stop himself. He jumped over to the bars, unexpected, and nearly frightened the boy off of his feet. The other people backed away as well.

"DEMON!" Ivan gripped the chains and gave a hard yank that caused Gilbert to fall into the bars. He quickly glanced at Clifford, who was flashing him a glare of annoyance.

Ivan didn't want to do it, but he couldn't risk being sent back. Gilbert should have known better than to act out like that. This wasn't what they had agreed upon. Ivan couldn't bear to look at Gilbert's face as he dragged his lover across the dirty, moldy hay covered floor by his ankle chains. The people were laughing at the albino's misfortune, and Ivan hated that he had to be the cause of it. Once Gilbert was in front of him on his back, Ivan raised the riding crop high above his head. He saw his reflection in Gilbert's moist pink eyes filled with fear and confusion. Ivan ignored it, and brought the riding crop down and across Gilbert's chest.

Gilbert cried out at the pain and rolled over onto his belly to try and relieve it. The crop came down again across his back this time. He cried out with each oncoming blow, gripping the stale hay in his hands while desperately trying to crawl away. Ivan kept pulling him back. The people kept on laughing. The next strike was accompanied by his cough. The constant crying out must have stimulated his illness for he could not control his coughing. Thankfully Ivan had stopped the beating. Gilbert rose onto his hands and knees, using one to cover his mouth as his body trembled with the coughs. He wasn't surprised to see speckles of blood in his palm when he pulled his hand away.

"FEAST YOUR EYES UPON THE DEMON NAMED FAMINE!" Billy appeared in front of the crowd to distract them from Gilbert's mishap. "THIS IS WHAT OUR FUTURE MAY BE! FAMINE AND DEATH ARE VERY NEAR UPON US! THEY ARE ONE IN THE SAME! WE GOOD PEOPLE MUST PROTECT OURSELVES!"

Ivan couldn't believe that the crowd was actually falling for Billy's words. What he really wanted to do was comfort Gilbert, whose skinny form was trembling on the floor.

"WHO WANTS TO BE SAVED FROM THE FAMINE?" Billy asked. "YOU, GOOD SIR? HOW ABOUT YOU, YOUNG LADY?" The people were eager to hear more, so the con artist went on to tell them about Gilbert's 'blood' and the 'fortunate effects' it will have.

Ivan looked over at Clifford as the man entered the cage with a bowl, a knife, and a bandage. Clifford gave him that look that said, 'Remember our deal'. Ivan swallowed hard, took the items from Clifford, and turned to Gilbert. "Demon! Sit up!" Ivan ordered him once again. His heart went out to his now exhausted lover who was both hurt and defeated. Gilbert sat up and gave him a pitiful, woeful look. Ivan ignored him, the people, and Clifford as he knelt in front of the albino. He took Gilbert's arm firmly in his grasp and it held it over the bowl, which he had placed on the floor. Gilbert didn't protest to the blade Ivan pressed into his frail skin a few inches above the wrist. He did hear Gilbert hissed out and give a whimper of discomfort, or most likely pain. Ivan let the blood trickle and drop in to the bowl, letting it fill to the center. The bowl wasn't big, but the amount of blood loss for Gilbert and his sickness was too much. As Ivan placed the bandage around Gilbert's wrist, he could see the albino's face turning slightly green with the possible urge to vomit.

"BEHOLD! THE BLOOD OF THIS DEMON WILL HELP TO KEEP BAD LUCK AND MISFORTUNE FROM BEFALLING YOU! MY COHORT WILL TAKE THIS BOWL IN THE BACK AND BOTTLE IT UP JUST FOR YOU! IF YOU ARE INTERESTED, MY GOOD PEOPLE, WHICH I KNOW YOU ARE, THEN PLEASE MEET OUTSIDE OF THIS TENT! FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE!"

Clifford motioned for Ivan to follow him out of the cage and back behind the curtain. Gilbert was out there alone now, scared, hurting, and in pain. "You did very well, Ivan! I'm rather surprised! You've kept true to our little deal!" He wanted for Ivan to respond, but when the man didn't, he continued on. "Now you'll help Billy to hand out these vials. So wait here a few moments and on my signal, take them out the back and meet Billy there."

"Mr. Clifford, sir…I really hate having to do this."

"Ah, yes, I do understand the pain you feel and your heart goes out to our albino friend. But this is a cruel, cruel world we live in. We are all trying to live, Ivan. You. Me. Everyone. We're just trying to live." With that said, Clifford left out the back of the tent flap.

Ivan looked at the bowl of Gilbert's blood and then to the vials of rat blood. Gilbert's blood was going to be wasted, even if it was a hoax. He covered his face his hands, letting out a deep, aggravated sigh into them. "Forgive me, Gilbert. Please forgive me."

/

Gilbert was relieved that it was finally over. He sat in the cage, alone, with nothing but a thin blanket to cover him. The tent was cold and the firelight had died out some time ago. Now he was in the dark without a single person to console him. Already Billy had brought back a group of men after the sales were over to tell them about the 'Creatures of the Night' show where Ivan would publically fuck him. In a strange way, Gilbert wished that strangers would fuck him instead of Ivan. Clifford offered him more money for the privilege of letting men pay to sleep with him. But all he really wanted was Ivan. How could Ivan do this to him? He didn't seem to be acting at all! Ivan looked like he had _wanted_ to hurt him! Gilbert wasn't even sure he could face Ivan after what the man did to him.

Glancing down at his chest, he could see the red and bloody welts peeking through the tears in the shirt. Gilbert spread a tear open to examine the damage caused by Ivan's riding crop. He touched it gently and hissed in pain. If only he weren't so frail then these wounds would barely bother him. What hurt the most was that it was Ivan who had given him this pain. 'Ivan.' He said the name softly to himself.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert lazily turned his head to the direction of the voice coming from the back of the tent. It was none other than Clifford wearing that phony smile and looking as smug as ever. Gilbert wouldn't answer him, only silently acknowledged him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Don't pretend to be concerned for me, Cliff." Gilbert replied in a flat tone. "You're full of shit. Don't fucking play 'nice' to me…just be the way you really are."

Clifford wiggled his mustache. "Well then, if you don't think I'm nice then perhaps I should just pocket your share for myself? Hm? How's that sound?" He held up a small sack and jiggled it.

Gilbert looked at the bag. "How much do I get?"

"See for yourself." Clifford tossed it to him.

He caught the sack, opened it, and dumped the coins into his palm. Gilbert counted ten gold coins. Ten! He had never seen so much money in his life! At least not in his possession. He stared at it with his mouth agape.

"Ah, suddenly I'm not a rotten bastard anymore, hm?"

"This is mine?"

"All yours. I gave you a little extra this time around because Ivan treated you so harshly. I must admit I didn't expect him to go that far." Gilbert fell silent. "Regardless, the people loved it and they want more. You're in business!" Clifford smiled. "Now then, why don't we get you back to your wagon where you can rest up, hm? I'll have Hefty Helga bring you dinner there, okay?"

Gilbert put all of the coins back in the tiny purse and allowed Clifford to help him up. He wobbled a bit, mainly from blood lose and his coughing fit. Clifford patiently walked him to the wagon, helped him up the steps, and sat him on the bed. Gilbert thanked him but it was muffled. Once the man had left, Gilbert stripped himself of his demon outfit and changed into simple pants and a shirt. All he wanted to do was sleep until Helga came with his food. He settled in the bed, suddenly feeling cold and sick to his stomach. And where was Ivan? Was the man too embarrassed and ashamed to come see him? Could he even face Ivan at this moment? He wanted the man with him, but Gilbert still felt like Ivan had betrayed him. Whatever the reason, he couldn't think right now. His entire body hurt all over; and with the covers over his head, he quickly fell asleep.

/

Ivan sat in the dinner area of the circus with a mug of ale that Hefty Helga offered him. He was barely drinking the bitter liquid but rather staring at his bandaged reflection in it. All he could think about was Gilbert and the horrible thing he had done to him. Ivan wouldn't blame Gilbert if the albino didn't trust him again. He felt as if he broke that trust because Gilbert depended on him to be his strength, to protect him. Instead Ivan let himself go berserk on the frail man to save his own hide. 'I can't go back there. I just can't.'

He contemplated on telling Gilbert what Clifford and Billy are making him do, yet he feared the outcome would be disastrous. Gilbert was very vocal, fiercely loyal, and oddly protective when it came to others being bullied. In this case, Clifford and Billy were bullying him. Gilbert would confront them, spit in their eye, and end up causing trouble for them both. Gilbert would die of disease and he would be sent back to the asylum. So knowing that, how can he make it up to Gilbert? More lies? Ivan guessed so. What other choice did he have? He noticed Hefty Helga putting food on a tray and asked whom it was for. When she answered 'Gilbert', Ivan said he would take it to him for her. He left his ale and carried the tray to Gilbert's wagon. He took a deep breath before knocking softly.

"Gilbert?" He called. "Are you in there?" No answer. Balancing the tray on one arm he opened the door and peeked inside. There was a lump on the bed, which meant that Gilbert was there. He placed the tray down on the tiny table, sat on the bed, and stroked the covered head. "Gilbie, it's me. Ivan. If you can hear me then wake up…I really need to talk to you."

"…go away, Ivan." Came Gilbert's choked reply.

"Gilbie, please listen to me. I need to apologize for the horrible way I treated you today during the show. There's no excuse for it. I just…I just grew so angry at the situation and all those people that all I could do was take it out on you. That is horrible for me to say, I know. I couldn't regret it more. But Gilbie, please try to understand that I did what I did to ensure our security here at this circus. Mr. Clifford and Billy are demanding a lot from us. If we are to ever get out of here and start our own independent lives we have to submit now and again. So that is what I was doing today. I had to act vicious in order to carry through with it. Believe me, it was something I did not want to do." While most of those words were true, they were not the God-honest truth.

"I believe you, Ivan." Gilbert removed the blanket from his head and sat up. "I'm still angry at you…but you are my only friend in this world and I don't want to lose you. What you did today really hurt me. Ivan, you beat me! You beat me like I was nothing more than a useless dog!"

"I know, Gilbert! I know! I told you how sorry I am and why I did it! It hurt me a lot too." Ivan saw the red mark on Gilbert's lip where the crop had split it. "How badly did I hurt you?"

Gilbert was silent for a moment, and then he removed his shirt to show Ivan all of the lashes. Some crusted with blood and others simply pink streaks. Gilbert even held up his wrists so Ivan could see where the iron rubbed him raw. And then there was that bandage with the line of brown on its white texture: dried blood.

Ivan reached out to take Gilbert's arm, gently this time, and bring the bandage to his lips. He planted a soft kiss on the wound and then stroked it. "I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Gilbie. And I'll respect your wishes if you don't want to see me for a while."

"No, Ivan…you can stay."

"Then you forgive me?"

Gilbert looked at him, and then slowly shook his head. "I can't forgive you right now, Ivan. You really hurt me. I understand why you did it but…" He scratched the back of his head. "This is weird."

Ivan flashed him a sad smile. "No…it's alright. I actually expect you to be mad at me. I would be mad at me. You look to me for strength and protection, and I failed at that. Just…from now on…don't give me cause to have to beat you during the show. Play your role."

"Yeah, that's real fucking easy for you to say, Ivan!" Gilbert snapped. "You have the better end of the performance here! Get out!"

"Gilbert-"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

Ivan stood up from the bed. "Here is your dinner. Please eat it all."

Gilbert threw the covers over his head as Ivan left the wagon. Did Ivan really have the balls to actually say those words? 'Play your role'? A damned brat threw a rock at his head! If the bars had been absent, Gilbert would have beaten the shit out that kid. It was difficult for him to accept the humiliation he had always suffered due to his appearance. Today was no different. He chuckled and slapped a hand to his face. What was he expecting? Everyone to go 'ooh' and 'ahh' at the way he looked? He was an idiot to hope so. How was he supposed to let Ivan fuck him if he was made at the man?

'Shit…did I act out too fast? Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at him like that.' He sighed, looking to the food. 'Maybe a full stomach will help me think.' He loved Helga's cooking and he ate every bit down to the very last bite. It made him feel a little better.

His eyes caught sight of the little purse filled with coins on his dresser. He got up and went over to the dresser to pick up the purse, weighing it in his hands. 'Ten gold coins…all at the expense of my humiliation.' Gilbert took out two of them. 'They are shiny.' He stared at the two shining pieces of gold in his hand with a heavy frown. It was amazing how something so small could hold so much power over someone's entire life. This tiny sack was what is controlling his life. He needs to be humiliated and ostracized just to make a handful of these coins. It was ridiculous when you think about it. Gilbert was not a slave to society or a slave to the king; he was a slave to _money_. Money made you powerful. Money offered you grand opportunities. Money gave you a spot in the kings' favor. Money helped you find friends. Money helped you to bring in more money. Everything was money.

"How can you be so beautiful but so evil at the same time?" He asked the coins in his trembling hands. "If I had you from the beginning then I wouldn't have this deadly disease. I wouldn't be in this God-forsaken place being laughed at either. If only I had you…" He dropped the coins back in the purse when he felt another wave of coughs coming on. Using the dresser to hold himself up, Gilbert let the disease run its course. The coughs kept coming, more than usual. The force of them had him on his knees. Once they stopped he couldn't catch his breath. He held his chest as he wheezed and gasped for air. It was like there was an invisible weight on his chest.

Finally, he was able to take a deep breath. The coughing had subsided. He panted wildly, like a person held for too long under water. His hair was damp with sweat and his chest was on fire. This was the worst attack he had had so far. It frightened him. "Ivan?" He wheezed out, still holding his chest. "Ivan!" 'Oh, that's right. I sent him away. Damn!' Gilbert crawled back to the bed and lay under the covers. 'Shit…I'm closer to dying every day.'

As he lay there waiting for the pain to go away, he rubbed at the welts and marks left by the riding crop. If he received another five gold coins then he could send for a decent doctor. But if he is to make that money he must humiliate himself in front of onlookers for their amusement. He'll have to let Ivan fuck him in public for the viewing pleasure of sick men.

'I need to make the choice of if I want to live or let myself die. If I die, I can escape this world. If I live…then I still have to suffer.' He rolled over in the bed, letting silent tears fall onto his pillow. 'What a rough decision to make.'

/

Ivan sat on one of the park benches, alone, watching the moon climb higher and higher in the sky. He wondered what Gilbert was doing right now? Was he okay? Should he go and check on him? Maybe it was better if he stayed away until tomorrow to give Gilbert some time to cool off. He felt terrible for what he did today. He was a very selfish man.

"Why so glum, big guy?"

Ivan turned to look at the circus clown, whose name escaped him at the moment. Ivan knew him to be a fairly rude, obnoxious, and sarcastic man. "Nothing."

"Yeah, right! You're good at hiding stuff." The man flipped himself so he was standing on his hands while he continued to speak. "Come on, Crusty- can I call you Crusty?- Why the long face? Was your father a horse?" Ivan frowned. "That was a joke!" he walked past Ivan on his hands. "Come on, you can tell Ol' Pumpernickel Plum!"

Ivan knew that was his clown name. "No, I really don't think I can. Please, stand like a normal person?"

"Sheesh! Spoil sport." Pumpernickel returned to his feet. "Thinking about your albino friend whom you kicked the shit out of?"

Ivan flashed him a dangerous glare. "Watch your tongue, clown. Not everything you say is funny."

Pumpernickel laughed happily at that. "We have differences of opinion! Seriously, though, you feeling bad about beating him? Don't feel bad, buddy. You're no different from the rest of us here, you know." He jumped up to balance on the tip edge of the bench. "We're all being blackmailed in some way by Cliff and Billy-Boy!"

Ivan gave him a curious look. "All of us?"

"Sure. I mean, there's bound to be some who are in it simply because there's nothing for them in the real world." Pumpernickel chose to walk on the bench's ledge now with the grace of a cat. "I know I'm always the funny guy around here, but I hate to be the bearer of bad news my oaf-ish friend."

Ivan glared silently at him.

"My sister died of the cough. The same thing Gilbo has. I'm telling you, pal, don't get too close to Gilbo. He's going to kick the bucket soon and it won't be pretty. You're lucky he is not your brother or something like that. Makes the death and suffering twice as hard." He flipped over onto his hands to continue pacing the bench's back edge. "Save yourself the heartache and keep your distance from Gilbo. That is my advice to you, buddy boy."

"I'm sorry…but I'm afraid I can't abandon him; no matter how sick he is I will remain by his side."

"Phew. You are one loyal dog. Woof, woof!" He pulled out a horn from his shirt and honked it in Ivan's face.

Ivan was trying to control his temper.

"Here, I'll let you in on a little secret about 'the cough'." He flopped himself down beside Ivan. "It was too late for my sister, but our doctor told us that we should have gotten her out of the city and into the country. Why? Because there is so much bad air and gases in the city that it only makes it harder on the lungs. The cough doesn't simply shoo away bad fumes and smelly gases. All this smoke from automobiles? It's killing Gilbo as we speak. But the country…now there…there is where the cure is. Why do you think is that so, Ivan-ho?"

Ivan thought about the words and the questions, trying to come up with a suitable answer. He had none, so he guessed. "It…rains more?" He yelped when the horn was honked once again in his face.

"WRONG!" Three more honks. "The country side is fresh. All the fresh air from the mountains and the streams help to make the lungs healthy. That's all natural, and we are natural. We all came from nature. All this stuff you see, these stone buildings and bricks houses and automobiles; all were created by man, not by nature."

"So…you're saying that Gilbert's life could be prolonged simply by going out to the country side?"

Pumpernickel clicked his tongue a few times. "It's not fool-proof. With some studies they've done it would seem that people suffering with the cough do better in the fresh country air. It helps to heal. But, you won't be getting there any time soon. Gilbo will die before then." The clown stood up from the bench and started to walk away. "Remember, save yourself the heartache. Stay away."

Ivan watched him leave and pondered over the words. What the clown had said was the same question he had asked himself about his relationship with Gilbert. But it was a chance he was willing to take, and abandoning Gilbert now after what he did today would crush the man. However, what the clown said about the countryside seemed to make sense. Not only for Gilbert but for himself as well. Escaping the city could give him the freedom he so desperately sought. But, it would be near impossible for them to get to the countryside. The only way to go would be by train and tickets were expensive. Only the rich could travel by train. But even if they did reach the country, where would they go? No one would hire them in the city, so who would hire them on a countryside farm or ranch? At least here in the city they knew how to find food. But in the country?

In the end he decided to visit the train station while it was still light out and see what was involved. He told one of the circus workers he was leaving and made his way to the station as fast as he could. Ivan ran down the streets and followed signs to the train station. When he arrived there was a locked gate with a guard there. The guard saw him and, looking a little frightened, told Ivan that he could not come in without a ticket. Ivan asked where he could get one and the guard pointed to a booth. Ivan walked over, staying his distance from the crowd, and looked at the train map. He scratched his head. The colored lines confused him. So waiting patiently for his turn, Ivan asked the man behind the booth how to get to the country.

"Excuse me, sir? I just want to know how far a ride it is to the country."

The man, like the other guard, backed away from him. "Depends on where you want to go. It would be half a day's ride to the country. Where are you lookin' to go?"

"Oh, I'm not sure yet. Just thinking about places to visit." He smiled.

"Well, sir, try not to get offended, and it's not my rules or policy, but…well…this station is for wealthy people. And I'm sorry to say, sir, but your kind would not be accepted on these trains."

Ivan frowned but offered a solution. "Can I ride in the cargo part? The coal train, maybe? If I have the money to pay then why should it matter where I sit?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's something I'll have to ask my manager. Now we're getting ready to close, sir, so please return at another time when you are ready to buy tickets and we'll talk to the manager then. Good day, sir." The man closed the booth curtains and put out a sign that said 'closed'.

Ivan gave a heavy sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaving the station. He should have known something like that would be the reason why they could not ride the train. They would have to sneak on the train, maybe bribe someone to let them pass. Another issue was their status and dress; they would not be allowed on the train with the rich. Now how were they to get to the country side? Defeated, Ivan kept his head lowered as he headed back to the circus.

/

The following morning it was raining. Gilbert had a hard time getting out of bed but it was his stomach that provided him with the motivation. The rain wasn't falling hard and getting wet never really bothered him. He hurried to the eating area, eager to know what Hefty Helga had made for them today. The eating area was covered with a tent and most of the circus staff were there eating. Gilbert caught sight of Ivan sitting all alone at a far table. He frowned at his lover, but decided that he would go and sit with him. Ivan was still all he had in this world right now and he wouldn't let his stubborn pride ruin that. Gilbert would still voice his anger, though. So taking his tray of food he went to join Ivan at the table.

"Hey." He greeted flatly.

Ivan looked up. "Oh. Good morning, Gilbert. Rainy today, huh?"

"Obviously." Gilbert answered and glanced out at the rain.

"Gilbert…I'm very sorry about yesterday. Are you still mad at me?"

He nodded. "I am. You pissed me off, and you really hurt me, Ivan!" He took an angry bite out of his bread. "And then you tell me not to act out so you don't have to hit me? I mean, what was the deal with that?"

Ivan's brows furrowed sadly. "I'm playing my role, Gillbert. If you do as I say then I won't be forced to beat you. Clifford said you are supposed to be sad, scared, and submissive."

"That fucking brat threw a rock at me!"

"I know. I saw what had happened. Remember, this is all for the money. Money is what we need right now if we are to get you better."

Gilbert felt ready to cry as he remembered the coughing fit he had had last night. To hide his tears, he shoved a spoonful of the oatmeal in his mouth. "Yeah, I know. I got ten gold coins yesterday."

"Ten? Wow, Gilbie! That's a lot of money!" 'Not enough for a train ticket plus a doctor, though.' The doctor would have to come first and then he could see about purchasing train tickets. The question on his mind now was should he tell Gilbert of the country and the trains? He didn't want to get Gilbert's hopes up if the idea were to fail. Gilbert's spirit was broken enough without something like this blowing up in his face.

"Yo, Ivan! You went away on me for a second there!"

"Oh, sorry. I was thinking, that's all." HE cleared his throat. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm doing okay. Got a little sick last night."

"Sick? What kind of sick? Were you coughing again?"

Gilbert nodded. "It was pretty bad, too. More blood this time."

Ivan reached over the table and gripped Gilbert's hand. He smiled at his lover. "You have enough money for a doctor visit. Would you like for me to go and fetch a doctor for you? I could go right now."

Gilbert looked at their hands clasped together, lifted his pink eyes, and smiled back at Ivan. "Yeah, I guess that would be for the best. Wouldn't hurt, right?"

"Not at all. I'll go now, okay?"

"Best ask Cliff first so he knows where you are."

Ivan stood up from the table. "So do you forgive me, now?"

Gilbert put his nose up in the air. "I'll think about it. Your reasoning behind what you did is correct, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

'Those words are a lie.' Ivan said to himself. "Alright, I'll be back shortly."

"Be careful out there."

"I will. Just try and rest in your wagon until I get back."

/

Clifford gave him permission to bring back a doctor, but finding one had proven to be quite a challenge. The first doctor Ivan went to was too expensive. The second one would not make house calls to a circus. Finally, the third doctor offered to see Gilbert and he went along with Ivan. The doctor was a short and stumpy man with glasses and a beard. He had to be in his upper years of age. Ivan had to bring the doctor to Clifford first, who approved of him, and accompanied them as well to Gilbert's wagon.

Ivan gave a steady knock and called to him. "Gilbert? Are you in there? I have the doctor here with us."

"Come in!" Gilbert called. He watched as Ivan, the doctor, and Clifford entered one by one. He pulled the covers up over his lap a little more.

The doctor took one look at him and gasped. "You're an albino!"

Gilbert gave an annoyed smile in Ivan's direction. "You didn't tell him that?" His white brow was twitching.

Ivan looked sheepish and lifted his hands in that classic, 'I don't know' pose. "I forgot?"

"Amazing! Astonishing!" The doctor went over to him with his medical bag. "Your name is Gilbert, correct?"

"Yeah. And who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Byron. I must say I have never treated an albino person who has the cough."

Gilbert clicked his tongue. "Am I really any different from other people?"

Byron looked amused at that. "No color at all when you should have color? We know very little about your kind. Does everything on you function normally? Aside from your cough, that is?"

"The hell kind of question is that?" Gilbert lifted his head as the doctor felt his neck.

"I just need to know more about your regular condition before I prescribe anything. Open your mouth." Gilbert did so.

Ivan asked, "How much is this going to cost him?"

"Six gold pieces." Byron answered and took out a stethoscope from his bag. "Breath deep for me." He placed it on Gilbert's chest in a few spots. "Abnormalities, but that's expected with the cough." He removed the device and turned to Ivan and Clifford. "There is no cure for this illness, but we do have some medicine that has proven to open the lungs and make breathing easier."

"How much is that?" Clifford asked.

"Four gold pieces."

'That's everything I've earned!' Gilbert said to himself. 'I'll only have one left!'

"We'll take it." Clifford said and opened his colorful coin purse. "This medicine will be on me."

Ivan smiled at him. "That is very kind of you."

"No!" Gilbert put his hands up. "No, I'll pay for the stuff myself. Keep your money, Clifford."

"But Gilbert, let me do something nice for you!" Clifford pouted.

"Fine!" Gilbert sighed. "Do it then." 'What will I have to owe him for this one?'

"Doctor Byron?" Ivan called to him as the doctor was packing up his things. "Is there anything else we can do for Gilbert?"

Doctor Byron took off his glasses to clean them with a cloth. "There is no cure, as I've said. But you can help to make him more comfortable. Keep his chest warm whenever it's cold out. If you have a hot water bag you can rest that on his chest when it starts to ache. Lots of fresh air if you can manage it. Eliminate stress, if you can. What Gilbert really needs is a lot of rest and a good diet. I can tell he is very thin and for someone with his ailments food is a necessity." He placed the small bottle of medicine on the end table. "When the bottle is finished please return it to me or I'll charge extra."

"Thank you, doctor." Ivan went over to the bed and sat with Gilbert.

"Call on me again if anything changes or gets worse." Clifford paid him for the medicine and Ivan paid for the service out of Gilbert's gold.

"We will. Thank you." Ivan said again and squeezed Gilbert's hand in his own. "See Gilbie? That wasn't so bad."

"Ivan," Clifford started, "May I speak to Gilbert alone for a few moments? You can see Doctor Byron out."

"Oh, yes." Ivan wanted to ask the doctor about the countryside. As he led the doctor through the circus grounds he asked him about the country. "Doctor, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I was told that being in the country and breathing in that air can help a person with Gilbert's problem. Is that true?"

"Oh, most definitely. While mankind has made great inventions and discovers to make living easier, this also brings about more health complications and sickness. Many of the gases and air we breathe in the city is very damaging to our bodies, with or without the cough. This is the price man pays for industrial revolution."

Ivan nodded. "So if I were to get Gilbert out into the country he could get better?"

"It won't cure him. There is no cure for the cough. The best we can hope for is prolonging the patients' life by eliminating possible sources that can make it worse."

"I see…" Ivan was hoping for a better answer than that. Would going to the country and taking all that risk be even worth it?

"However, I can see that your friends' situation is a money problem. Working the circus will not keep paying for his health like this. But I am willing to make a deal with your friend."

"What kind of deal?"

"We doctors need to watch, observe, and take notes on patients with the cough. The more information we have the quicker we are to finding solutions. If your friend will let me observe him in his illness then I will not charge for my services."

Ivan's eyes widened. "Do you mean that?"

"I do. Talk it over with your friend. I can tell he's the stubborn type. Strong willed, too. Let me know his answer by the end of the week. And as for your…condition, I have lotion for that."

"Oh, I'm alright. It doesn't bother me anymore."

"Let me see then. I know when Syphilis looks good and when it is at its worst."

Ivan took a step back. "No, really, I'm okay."

"There is no reason to be shy. I'm a doctor! I see these sorts of things all the time. I'm here to help."

"I don't want your help. Just leave me alone, okay? If I want your help I'll ask for it."

Doctor Byron looked miffed. "Very well then. I only hope your friend is more compliant than you are."

"The exit is that way. Thank you again for coming by."

Ivan watched the man leave with a breath of relief. 'That was a close one.' He cleared his throat. 'I should get back to Gilbert. I wonder what Clifford is talking about with him?'

Ivan hurried to the wagon. He still had a lot to think about.

End Chapter 8 TBC


	9. Little Lost Soul

*****Warnings: Language, non-con, angst**

*****Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.**

**'_There's a hole in the world like great black pit_**

_**And filled with people who are filled with shit**_

_**And the vermin of the world inhabit it.'- Sweeny Todd**_

**Chapter 9**

"Alright Cliff, spill it." Gilbert crossed his arms and looked at the man suspiciously. "You didn't buy me that medicine out of the goodness of your heart."

"What makes you think so ill of me, Gilbert?" He mock pouted.

"Because of how you treat all these people at your circus. You're not one to give without expecting something in return."

Clifford looked annoyingly amused. "I can always just take the bottle back?"

"No, let me hear what you have to say first."

"Very well then. You recall my previous offer of pleasuring men for a little extra money, yes?"

"I recall it. Doesn't mean I like it. I'm already doing that with Ivan, so why prostitute myself more?"

"Ah, but there is more to this than you think. I have quite a few rich men who pay me quite handsomely for some of my more 'unique' creatures of the night." He wiggled his brows. "I can charge double the price for you."

Gilbert looked away from him. "So it's not fuck regular men anymore it's whore myself to rich men?"

"Basically. That's more money in your pocket. Take some time to think about it. Rest up for now. I'll come by later this evening for your answer." As Clifford was leaving Ivan was entering. "I trust the doctor found his way out?"

Ivan nodded. "He did. Thank you sir." He waited for Clifford to leave before closing the door and locking it. "Gilbert, I need to speak with you." He whispered.

Gilbert smiled at his lover. "Lay in bed with me if you don't mind? I'm very cold."

"Of course." Ivan removed his shoes and coat. "I have some good news and some not-so-good news." He pulled the albino close to him as they snuggled in bed.

"Tell me the good news first."

"Well, the good news is I may have found a way for us to get out of here." Gilbert's eyes widened. "I heard from the circus clown that people who have the cough should go out to the country where the air is clean. It helps prolong their life."

"That's…that's unbelievable!"

Ivan frowned sadly. "It's not that easy though. The train tickets are very expensive. I went and checked the prices. The man there even said we probably wouldn't be allowed on because we're not 'rich'. So that's the bad news, Gilbie. We can't save up for the train tickets and keep you healthy at the same time." Before Gilbert could speak, Ivan shushed him with a finger to his lips. "One more thing. This may be able to help us but I need your consent. The doctor, Dr. Byron, said that he will not charge for his services if you will let him examine your albino features for medical science. I really, really hope you will take him up on that generous offer. I know how you feel about being examined but-"

"I'll do it." Gilbert answered quickly.

"You will?" Ivan narrowed his eyes. "Wait, why are you smiling? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

Gilbert was indeed smiling; in fact, he was grinning from ear to ear. Clifford's words were repeating in his head, the ones pertaining to those 'rich men'. "Those tickets won't be too expensive, Ivan."

"I don't understand what you mean?"

"It's easy!" Gilbert couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Clifford said that he whores out his more unique creatures of the night to rich men, who pay a lot of money for the privilege. He wants me to do it."

Ivan took Gilbert's hand in his own. "I don't want you sleeping with other men, Gilbie." It was true; he really did not want him sleeping around. Not only did he care for Gilbert but he was also aware of all the diseases that came with prostitution. His 'fake disease' was number one. Gilbert had enough health issues to worry about that did not have to include sexual ones.

Gilbert smiled hopefully and squeezed Ivan's hand. "I know, but hear me out. You said going to the country would help me, right? Leaving the city will help you as well! You'll be free! We need a lot of money to buy those tickets, right?" He grinned. "Well, if I can coax those old rich geezers to cough up more money for me, then we can double our pay and save up quicker to buy those tickets!"

"But why should our freedom have to come at your expense? Surely there is a better way?"

Pink lips curled. "Ivan, remember our biggest issue is money. We need money if we are to get away from here." He whispered. "Tomorrow night you are fucking me in front of paying customers. If I choose to go with the rich men, we won't have to have sex in public like that. I can be with just one man, in private."

Ivan frowned sadly. "I don't like this idea of yours at all, Gilbie."

"What other choice do we have? And really…it's my life and my decision. Let me be the one to choose what to do with me."

He sighed. "Alright. But please, just think it over more first before you make the decision."

"I will." Gilbert smiled sweetly. "Hey Ivan? Do you think you could…" he blushed a bit. "This will sound really stupid…but do you think you could…sing me to sleep?"

"Sing?"

Gilbert nodded. "I used to fall asleep to Fritz's flute. It's been a little difficult for me to play it right recently…and I miss the sound of comforting music."

Ivan snuggled the albino against him, slowly caressing his side as he began to sing a soft, sweet tune. His mother would sing this to him sometimes when he was feeling sad, so he hoped, in some way it will help to ease Gilbert's suffering. Ivan had forgotten about the flute and how important it was to Gilbert for what it represented. Not being able to play because of his disease must be tearing Gilbert up inside. So much was happening at once, and Ivan thought that maybe he needed the bit of gentle comfort too. Ivan lulled Gilbert to sleep and didn't stop until he heard the light snores coming from the other. It was important for Gilbert to rest, so Ivan chose to stay with him and catch a little catnap himself.

'_Ivan!' He heard his mother's voice. 'Ivan, little lamb, where are you?'_

'_I'm over here, mama!' Ivan called from the kale field behind the manor. He held a fistful of wildflowers, which he intended to give to his mother. Young Ivan quickly stood up, dusted his knees, and hurried after the sound of his mother's voice._

'_Ivan! My sweet little lamb, there you are! Must you wander so far away all the time?'_

'_I'm sorry, mama. But look! I picked these for you!'_

'_Oh Ivan, they're beautiful! Mama will go put them in a vase right now!'_

'_Okay mama!' He watched his mother's brown work dress blow in the breeze as she walked away from him. He frowned when he saw the automobile coming. 'Mama! Mama wait! Wait! MAMA!'_

_But the image of his mother was gone, leaving only the sound of her scream and the rattling of the automobile. Ivan, now fully grown, stood in front of what was his old home at the Duke's manor. He wanted so desperately to be home, to let things be the way they once were. When he opened the door, he realized that it was not his house. Neither his father nor mother was in the house. There was only one person in the house, and that person was Gilbert. The albino stood at the table in the center of the room, rolling out some dough. Beside him on the table was a sack of flour and a pitcher. _

'_Gilbert?' _

'_Hi Ivan! Welcome home! I got a late start to making the bread, sorry about that.'_

'_That's fine.' Where were they? What was this place? 'Gilbert? Where are we? Is this our house?'_

_Gilbert lifted his head to answer, but all that came out was violent cough. Ivan watched in stunned horror, as Gilbert's coughs grew worse, spitting up blood in larger amounts. The dark red blood pooled down his chin and dripped on the dough. The white front of his shirt was red with the blood but the coughing wouldn't cease. Ivan was powerless to do anything. He cried out Gilbert's name yet the man could not answer. From Gilbert's mouth came the steady flow of a tune from a flute. Ivan reached for him, cried out again, but there was only the response of a flute. Gilbert's pink eyes stared at him in fear. He reached out for Ivan in one last plea for help before his legs gave out from under him. Ivan's eyes followed the body to the floor; still standing in stunned silence while Gilbert lay choking on his own blood. With one last spit up of bloody froth; Gilbert's body lay still on the wooden floor._

He jerked awake. Still lying on the bed, Ivan felt another form beside him. It was Gilbert, of course. Ivan could feel the other breathing steadily, assuring him that the albino was alive. He let out a sigh of relief; glad to know that it was only a dream, which will eventually become a reality. He often dreamt about his mother's death, but this was the first time he envisioned Gilbert's and it frightened him. Gently, he shook Gilbert awake just to hear the sound of the man's voice. His lover snorted awake, mumbling some words and blinking the sleep out of pink eyes. "Gilbie?"

"Huh? Wha? What is it? Why'd you wake me up?"

Ivan smiled. "I just needed to hear your voice, that's all."

Gilbert blinked one squinted eye while the other remained closed. "You woke me up for that?" Annoyed, Gilbert flipped himself over onto his belly and pulled the covers up around him. "Don't do it again. Go back to sleep." He muttered through the pillow. He felt Ivan rolling in to him and Gilbert tried to nudge him away, yet Ivan persisted. Gilbert grumbled as he gave in to Ivan's cuddling, which quickly turned to something more. Sleepy white brows furrowed when Ivan's weight lay along the length of his back. "What're you doin'?" He mumbled. "Fuckin' heavy!"

"I dreamt I lost you." Ivan whispered to him.

Gilbert turned his head to speak. "Well I'm here now. Let me sleep." He peeked open one eye when he felt something hard poking the back of his thighs. "Now?"

Ivan didn't understand it either, all he knew was Gilbert is alive and with him. Why that decided to make him hard he didn't have an answer. Perhaps it was the idea of Gilbert being pimped out to other men? He shouldn't be thinking so jealously when he did not actually love Gilbert. He couldn't love him, not if he was going to lose him. Caring for him as a companion and friend was the safest relationship. Thinking about the sight of Gilbert in his dream made his erection shrink. He let out a small sigh.

"Wha- happen?" Gilbert mumbled, half asleep.

"I'm sorry." He said and rolled off of the other. "Go back to sleep. I'll be getting up."

"Why? Stay."

Ivan got out of bed and dressed. "I'm really no longer tired. I just want to clear my head. Your job is to rest now, so don't worry about me. I'll be back in later." His answer came in a grunt and a mumble.

/

Ivan found himself at the train station, which was completely empty at this time of night. The iron fence was high and curved at the top with its gates chained together. Ivan leaned against the bars, staring at the empty tracks that is their only chance at freedom. Their freedom was right here beyond these bars. He reached his hand through, and if he closed one eye, it was almost in reach. They could not board these trains because they were not of high society status. Although he hated it, Gilbert made a valid point in pretending to befriend the rich men who would be sleeping with him. The rich men can pay more, much more. Maybe Gilbert could steal some of their clothes when with them, or ask for clothing as gifts. Back in his opium days, Ivan could remember some of the women having frequented men who offered them more than just money for their company. If Gilbert could learn to seduce and befriend the rich men who frequent him, then maybe they stood a chance at escaping!

Once again, their freedom came at the expense of Gilbert. It was just something he had to accept, and another reason to keep himself from loving Gilbert.

/

When Gilbert woke up he realized that Ivan was nowhere to be found. He was uncertain of the time and how long he slept. That medicine sure was strong! Gilbert rubbed at his chest as he swung his legs over the bed, planting his feet on the cold floor. His toes curled at the chill. What he needed was a good pair of slippers or socks. Soon, Gilbert thought, he would have everything he needed. Though his head was a bit foggy, Gilbert could remember his full conversation with Ivan about escaping to the country. What a wonderful idea! It was the best idea they've had so far! It gave him new hope. He and Ivan would escape to the country, find work on a farm, and live happily together off the fat of the land! That's how it would be, until his lungs betray him. Although, Gilbert had to admit to himself that he was getting accustomed to the idea of dying. Before it had bothered him every minute of the day, but now it was just a part of his daily life. There was no escaping it. All he could do was, like the doctor said, is treat the symptoms. A prolonged life was better than a short life!

'Fritz, what would you say if you saw me now?' Gilbert looked upwards as he spoke silently. 'I'm sorry I haven't been playing your flute…but I think you understand the reason why.' He looked to his coat hanging on the back of the door. Inside the coat pocket was Fritz's flute. His flute. Determined to give it one more try, Gilbert retrieved the flute and took a seat back on the bed. Gently he glided his fingers along its length, circling each little hole tenderly. It was worth another try now that he had medicine to help him.

Putting the flute to his lips, he closed his eyes and blew. Out came a note. And then another, and another! Soon he was playing a full song and melody. Gilbert's heart sang right along with the notes of the flute. Oh how splendid it was to play again! He made it through two whole songs before the burn his chest returned. Quickly he ceased playing, dropped the flute to the bed, and took his medicine. What nasty tasting stuff! But it helped! Things were starting to look up once again! This medicine would help to fight back the infection until he could get to the country! He and Ivan had a fighting chance now, and it was all up to him.

"Nothing's gonna keep me down!" Gilbert said proudly, holding his flute up high. "Come hell or high water, I'm gonna live life to the fullest! Come on, world! Bring it on! I lasted this long on my own! Kesesesesesee! You laugh at me, but soon I'll be laughing at you! Just like this!" He gave a series of different pitched manic laughter. He didn't know what came over him. Perhaps it was the magic of Fredrick's spirit in the flute giving him strength. Or maybe he was relieved that he has finally come to terms with his disease. It could simply be the medicine. Whatever the reason, he felt like going back out into the world and showing it just how awesome he was!

His stomach rumbled madly. First he would catch a bite to eat, and then spread his awesomeness around the world.

Gilbert merrily dined on beef stew, dipping the bread in the broth and licking the bowl. It was delicious. The sun was nearly ready to rise and Hefty Helga was not up yet to start breakfast, so Gilbert helped himself to last night's leftovers. For a split second he would think all this was worth it just for the food. Patting his belly and giving a loud burp, Gilbert took to the circus grounds to walk off the feeling of being overstuffed. The sun was just beginning to light up the area and Gilbert still had not seen any sign of Ivan. He wondered where the man could be?

While on his stroll he passed by the other circus 'freaks', such as the 'bearded lady' and 'lizard man'. He didn't want to get too close to people while he was here in fear of gaining extra baggage. Gilbert knew it was best to just stick with Ivan and no one else. The less people knew about them the better off they'd be. But while on his walk he saw a pair of policemen strolling through the grounds as well. Holding his breath, Gilbert ducked behind a tree to avoid catching their sight. The policemen looked familiar to him, but then again they all did. The police liked to abuse him and he hadn't met one who didn't want to just for the joy of it. He waited until they were out of range before darting from the tree and continuing on his way. And just where was Ivan? Was he all right? Did something happen to him?

"Gilbert, my boy!" Came Clifford's voice from somewhere behind.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and hissed through his teeth before forcing a smile on his face. "Hey boss!"

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Clifford held out his arms as if to welcome in the new day. "Looks like we'll be set for a pretty clear and mild night!"

"Oh? Are we putting on a show tonight?"

"Indeed we are! Surely you haven't forgotten that this evening is our 'men only' performance?"

Gilbert's forced smile lowered in to a frown. "So soon?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It's just…so soon."

Clifford smiled. "You'll be doing it with the man you love." He sighed dreamily. "Shouldn't that be enough to please you?"

"Boss, maybe you aren't familiar with love, but when you are in love, you want it to be something special you both share. Making love shouldn't be put on for show. It's something private for just two lovers." He let out a breathless chuckle. "But you wouldn't understand that, would you? I'm wasting my breath."

Clifford's features changed. "Oh yes, I can relate to your words, Gilbert." He said seriously. "Not that it is any of your business, but I too have known love in my younger years. I know the importance of what two lovers can have that is secretly just for them."

Gilbert was surprised to hear those words. "Then why do you make me and Ivan do this?"

"Because Ivan doesn't really love you."

Gilbert felt his heart freeze and then crumble in to a million pieces. "You're lying."

Clifford shrugged his shoulders. "It takes someone who has been in love before to recognize the spark in others." He gave Gilbert a sad smile. "Little lost soul, Ivan does not love you. He cares for you, but he does not love you. I don't see that look in his eyes. He doesn't worship the ground you walk on. He doesn't hang on your every word. He isn't even here now; he's off somewhere else. Ivan knows that you are ill and likely to die in the months to come yet he isn't here by your side. Shouldn't a man who 'loves you' want to be with you every waking moment before you're gone from this earth?"

Gilbert was silent.

"My sweet Allison suffered from some rare, unknown disease. The doctors had no cure for it, and the priests had no prayers to soothe it. I could only watch her slowly die." He tapped the tip of his cane against Gilbert's chest. "That's how I know he doesn't love you. Perhaps it is too early in your relationship yet to establish actual love, but heed an old man's warning, little lost soul. When you watch the person you love more than life itself slowly die, you wonder if there is any other hope in this life for you. Now my Allison was a jewel, a priceless gem, a flower growing in a bed of rotten earth. Ivan sees you as a flower, but you are wilting. Why pick a flower that is wilting? It will only die once you pick it."

Gilbert felt the emotions and tears welling up in him for Clifford's words struck a nerve, one he never thought he had. But no, it couldn't be true! Clifford was a con artist, a thief, and a pimp. How could he believe for a second that the rat of a man could have any real say in what was real or fake? Clifford always had some alterative motive, so Gilbert couldn't take to heart what the man said. Yet why was there a tiny part of him that was agreeing with what Clifford had said? Was it the 'wilting flower' bit?

"In the end, think whatever you like." Clifford said. "Just promise to take my advice in to consideration. Will you at least do that for me?"

"Leave me be." Gilbert spun on his heel and stormed away from the man.

Clifford just crossed his arms while holding his cane and shaking his head. "Young people these days, they think they know everything." He said to Pumpernickel the Clown who had just come up to join him.

"Cliff, just what are you expecting to come of this?" Asked Pumpernickel. "I heard what you said to him. We want them to enjoy each other's company and bring in more dough."

Clifford smiled. "Yes, you are correct. However, I'm simply giving them a nudge in the right direction. Now that I have planted the seed of doubt in Gilbert's mind that Ivan doesn't really love him, that albino will go to impossible lengths to earn that love. Tonight they fuck in front of an audience. I need Gilbert at his most lustrous and sultry self if I am to rake in the money."

The clown crossed his arms, tapping his foot. "And what makes you think Gilbert will strive to earn that love and not just wash his hands of Ivan?"

"No one else wants him. Gilbert knows his days are numbered and Ivan is the only true friend he has. I know how these things work out. I've done it before." He smirked.

"Policemen." Pumpernickel pointed out. "Heading this way."

Clifford flashed a bright smile. "Good day to you, sirs! How may I be of assistance to you?"

The first officer smirked, twirling his nightstick around his index finger. "We heard you have a curious little creature here at your circus."

"I have many a curious things here, good sirs. Which _curious creature_ do you mean?"

/

'Ivan doesn't love me? That can't be! He wouldn't be doing all this for me if he didn't really love me!' He had to find Ivan and ask him where they stood as a couple. Somehow he couldn't fully doubt Clifford's words and that was what unnerved him. Gilbert stopped when he noticed a wilting violet along the path. He bent down and used his finger to hold the violet up straight, but once he let go it wilted again. Then, he pinched the stem with his fingers and picked it, only to see it wilt even further. '_Why pick a flower that is wilting?_' Clifford's words echoed in his head, and the man was right. Ivan might not want to fall in love with him since he will be dying soon. That wouldn't be fair to Ivan either. Why should he have to suffer the loss of a loved one? Losing a friend is a little easier to take than watching your lover die. 'Is that why Ivan made love to me?' he looked up at the cloudy sky. 'Is he just trying to make me happy and comfortable until my final days?'

Standing up, Gilbert dropped the flower back to the grass. 'I was having such a good day too. I need to find Ivan! I need to speak with him. Where the hell could he be?'

"Gilbert!"

The albino hoped for a moment that it was Ivan calling his name, yet when he turned around it was to the sight of Clifford and two police officers. Gilbert looked at them, feeling himself swallow hard at the sight of the officers. Clifford did not appear happy at all, and Gilbert wondered if these officers were looking for Ivan. "Yeah?"

"You're presence is needed with this officer." He tilted his head towards the policeman.

"Presence? What for?"

The officer spoke in Clifford's place. "You may not remember me, but I sure as hell remember you! You're hard to forget!"

Come to think of it, the first officer did seem familiar to him. It took a moment for him to realize that this officer was the one he sucked off in the back ally. He shuddered, but said, "I can understand that. All officers look alike to me, so I'm sorry if I don't remember you."

"Gilbert," Clifford looked away from him. "This officer is asking for your pleasure company. Go with him. That tent is empty." He pointed to a small tent with his cane.

Gilbert was shocked at the request, and of course he declined it. "I'm not a prostitute! You can't ask this of me!"

"Policemen don't pay." Said the first officer with a smug expression. "It's noted in our contracts."

Gilbert looked to Clifford for support, but he could see that the circus leader had no control or say over what these officers requested. And it actually surprised him to see that Clifford was silently voicing his displeasure, assuring Gilbert that he did not approve of this. This was disgustingly unfair! "No! I have the human right to say no! I won't go with you!"

"Gilbert," Clifford warned. "The officer asked something of you so do it."

"Yeah," Snorted the second officer. "It's your civic duty!" The man laughed.

The first one pounded his nightstick in his palm. "Let's go, snowflake."

Gilbert took a step back with a glare. "I said 'no'!"

"You don't have a choice." The officer reached out and gripped Gilbert's arm. "In the tent. Let's go."

"NO! LET ME GO! CLIFFORD!"

Gilbert struggled to free his arm but the officer was much stronger, and healthier, than he was. His boss couldn't help him and Ivan was nowhere to be found, not that he could do anything either. The second policeman gripped his other arm to aid the first in dragging him to the tent. Gilbert planted his feet firmly, leaning back in hopes to slow the pulling. His shoes only scrapped along the ground as he was shoved into the tent. This tent was used for some prop storage and was mostly empty. Gilbert tried to make a break for the flap, but the second officer closed it tight, shutting out the remaining bit of light. He wouldn't have made it anyway for the officer's arms were locked around his waist to hold him still.

The officer tossed him to the ground and stood in the pathway of the tents' exit. Gilbert rolled onto his back but sat up quickly to push himself along the ground to get away. The officer followed. His only other option was to slip out under the tent walls but the officer got to him first. The man grabbed his ankles, yanked him back, and fell roughly on top of him. Gilbert flailed his arms and legs, trying to land a strike anywhere on the officer's body. The man was much bigger and stronger, which made Gilbert's defeat a quick one. There was no sense in fighting because he could not win. All he could do was lay there and give the officer his body, that's all the man wanted anyway. But to his right, Gilbert saw, once again, a wilting little wild flower. He stared at the tiny orange flower while his pants were removed along with his shoes. Even at the pain of forced entry and rough, rocking thrusts, Gilbert focused his mind and eyes on that little wilting flower. He kept his mouth closed, keeping his teeth clenched together so as to not let out a single peep of pain. The officer gave a choked wail as he reached his climax before collapsing on top of him. Gilbert closed his eyes then, trying so hard to ignore the disgusting smell of a sweaty woolen police suit and the foul breath of the man on top of him.

"Good boy." Breathed the officer with a chuckle as he removed his weight from Gilbert's body. "What are you staring at? That flower?" He lifted his boot and crushed the flower beneath the sole. "Now it's dirt, just like you." Gilbert gave him no response. "I'll be back another time, if you're still kicking, that is!"

With an echoing laugh the policeman left the tent and Gilbert was alone. Gilbert looked at the flower, now crushed and broken, just like him. He remained lying there while streams of tears poured down his cheeks and disappeared into the dirt. The tent flap opened.

"Gilbert?" It was Clifford. "Get some rest. You've got a long night ahead of you." And with that said, Clifford was gone.

Gilbert closed his eyes.

/

Ivan finally came back and went straight to Gilbert's wagon, only to find it locked. He gently called Gilbert's name but there never came an answer. Jiggling the handle and giving a firm knock, Ivan called his name again. Still no answer.

"He doesn't want to see you." Ivan turned to see Pumpernickel.

"Why not? Is he sick?"

Pumpernickel shrugged his shoulders. "It's not my place to tell you, but I would stay away from Gilbert until tonight."

"What's tonight?"

"Don't you remember? It's the public fucking show tonight. The priest fucking the demon, right?"

"Oh…that." Was that why Gilbert was upset? "Still, I need to see him." He knocked again. "Gilbert! Gilbie, let me in. I want to talk with you!" Pumpernickel had walked away just as Gilbert unlocked the door.

"Count to ten, and then come in." Gilbert said softly.

Confused, Ivan did as he was told, counting to ten and then entering. He found Gilbert on the bed, sitting up. Gilbert smiled at him yet something didn't seem quite right.

"Where've you been?" He asked.

"I was at the train station." Ivan answered. "I was studying it while trying to find ways to sneak in. How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

"I'm feeling fine! Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem so…distant and sad."

Gilbert sighed, choosing to keep his feelings hidden. "I'm just concerned about tonight, that's all. I'm worried about all those men watching us make love."

Ivan sat on the bed with him. "I know it'll be hard, but just try to ignore all of them and think only about us."

"Yeah…I'm going to do that, because there is just us, right?"

Ivan nodded, giving Gilbert's cheek a light stroke. "There is only us."

'I don't believe you.' Gilbert said to himself. 'But I'm going to pretend like I do.' He chose not to tell Ivan about the rape and the policeman but keep it a secret between himself and Clifford. Still, he cried. He cried into Ivan's chest.

Some things were better kept just like that, a secret.

End Chapter 9 TBC


	10. All For Naught

*****I updated faster than I thought I would! Please read and enjoy! Reviews are always welcomed! Thanks to my beta for her fast work! This is a VERY angsty chapter, so read with caution.**

*****Warnings: Hardcore yaoi, drug use, angst, language, minor violence**

*****Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.**

**'_It's a world where the dogs eat the dogs_**

**_where they kill for the bones in the street_**

**_And God in His Heaven he don't interfere_**

**'_Cause he's dead as the stiffs at me feet'- __Dog Eat Dog- Les Mis_**

**Chapter 10**

Gilbert sat alone in the back of the performance tent staring down at his hands folded neatly in his lap. It was growing close to show time. He was dressed as the demon 'Famine' once again ready to get fucked by the diseased priest 'Rasputin'. The rape from earlier was still fresh in his mind and his body ached all over, mainly his lower half. There had been blood from the forced entry as well, and once Ivan penetrated him tonight, the tears would open again. He wasn't sure he could even go through with this tonight, or any other night. The promise of sleeping with rich men suddenly filled him with terror he had forgotten he had. Nothing seemed hopeful anymore, not after Clifford's words about Ivan's true feelings.

It all seemed hopeless now; the train station, the country side, even prolonging his life. All of it was hopeless. He was a wilting flower that no one would pick, and that is how he would remain until his roots shriveled up and died. He wanted to cry, but it would make his eye makeup run. So many limitations. Oh how was he going to get through this night? The idea of sex terrified him, and although he took his medicine he didn't feel any better. How was he going to act tonight? How could he keep in character without breaking down and ruining everything for himself and Ivan?

Then, he remembered something that was given to him earlier by Pumpernickel the clown. Gilbert had brought it with him and it was set on the little table. It was a drug, a pill that would help him feel excited for sex. The clown offered it to him and Gilbert had just taken it without thinking. He was hesitant at first but his nerves were threatening to send his mind over the edge, and he couldn't afford to let that happen. So taking the white pill between his fingers, he popped it in his mouth and swallowed. It was chalky on his tongue and left a bad taste in his mouth. Pumpernickel said it would take a short while to work, and that was all the time he had. It was closer to show time now.

Beside him the tent flap opened and he looked to see that Ivan had just stepped in. Ivan was dressed in his black priest robes and covered from head to toe in bandages. Why fully covered, Gilbert didn't know, but at the same time he didn't care to ask either. Ivan simply smiled at him, which in turn only made Gilbert look away.

"Gilbie? Is something wrong."

'I should tell him…at least about the police officer.' "I…I'm just afraid of…" But he chickened out. "I'm afraid of being in front of all those people. I took something to help me get more comfortable."

"Took something? Gilbert, what did you take?" Ivan hurried over to him. "What was it? Who gave it to you?"

Gilbert lowered his eyes. "The clown did. He said it would make sex easier for me."

"Oh Gilbert…I wish you hadn't have taken that." Ivan had seen those sorts of drugs in action before and he doubted Gilbert had the physical strength to endure the drug full force. The man would take a day or two to recover from it.

"Well, I had to take it, okay? I just want to get this night over with!" He placed a hand on his belly as it began to feel a little funny.

Ivan just sighed. "Alright then. I can hear Billy talking to the crowd…we'd best go."

Gilbert nodded and picked up the chain to place around his neck. He shivered from the cold of the shackle. Yet there was that warming in his lower belly again; it tingled. So getting down on all fours, Gilbert handed the chain to Ivan and started to crawl to the tent flap where the 'people' were waiting. There was a slight tug on his chain that made him turn to look back at Ivan, confused.

"Gilbie…I love you. Remember that tonight, okay?"

The albino gave him a sad smile, not believing his words but pretending they were true. He said nothing back and pushed past the flap to enter the 'cage', with Ivan close behind. The effects of the drugs were working fast by making his limbs tremble and his groin ache. With pink eyes wide, Gilbert looked all around at the group of men staring back at him. Each of them looked curious, a few disgusted, and some already turned on. One thing Gilbert noticed about the men was their dress; many of them were not in rags or filthy, they were regular salary men. Their wives or lovers were home in bed while they were out watching him get fucked from behind; a sick way for them to get off. But Gilbert did not have the strength or the energy to hate. Instead, he left his depression at the mercy of the drug, allowing it to take full effect. He moaned at the tightening in his groin, which was aching for release. His mind was hazy and his vision was blurry, but that was fine because he rather not see the lustful looks on their faces.

'Ivan…?' He looked around for the other, suddenly unable to make out any faces around him. Hopefully Ivan was behind him, getting ready to fuck him for show.

His body was craving release, even yearning for Ivan to enter him. He wanted to be filled by anything right now and to show that he wanted it, Gilbert found himself removing the tiny scrap of cloth covering his lower region. His eyes wouldn't work, but his ears could still hear and by the lusty sounds coming from the audience he was doing something right. He knew he was hard and aching but wasn't shy about showing it. Gilbert even felt himself smiling a bit. The people watching were just black blobs now, so he didn't care. He didn't want to care. Then someone stood above him, and it could only be Ivan. He closed his eyes, reached out his hands, and slipped them up under Ivan's priest robes.

Gilbert was completely gone, Ivan noted silently to himself. The drug had fully taken over, and he had seen it in action before. Through his bandages, Ivan looked to the crowd of jeering men gawking at them in excited lust. He turned back to Gilbert when those cold thin hands traveled up his bare thighs. He wore nothing underneath his robes for this night, he was advised not to. He let out a little groan when Gilbert found his cock, but it was not yet engorged. One of the men shouted, in a lewd suggestion, for Gilbert to use his mouth. Ivan looked down at his albino lover, watching those pink lips moisten with the tip of an equally pink tongue. He stood still and closed his eyes when Gilbert took just the head of his soft penis into his mouth. It didn't take long at all for Ivan to become aroused, and watching himself grow longer and thicker while Gilbert sucked on the length gave him a small spurge of excitement as well. The albino demon was moaning against him, sucking fast and hard. Ivan reached down to run his fingers through Gilbert's thinning white hair. This wasn't right.

But then there came a trio of sounds. Sweet sounds. Ivan saw some of the men had tossed in some silver coins, showing that they were very pleased with the event. Ivan's eyes widened. They were getting extra money for this! Money he could use to help Gilbert escape this life. 'If it is a show they want, then I will give them a show.' Gilbert wouldn't remember. The albino was high on a sex drug and wouldn't remember a thing in the morning. 'Act the bastard for now and take their money!' Ivan suddenly shoved the albino away from him and very gently, using his foot to shove him further away.

Turning to the crowd of men, he forced a crude smile upon his lips. "Shall we hang the demon in chains to be fucked?" The men gave their bellowing cheers of 'yeah' and whistles. "Priests don't come cheap!" 'Forgive me, Gilbert.' Some men tossed in a couple of silver coins; and if he were to deliver what he promised he would get more. Ivan turned to head back in the tent and quickly returned with the wrist shackles. The crowd was pleased.

"Hey priest!" Shouted one man who was gripping the bars. "If the demon's hungry I got a 'feast for Famine' right here!" He grabbed his crotch and it made the other men standing near him laugh.

"That's for another night!" Ivan shouted back. 'As if I'd even let you, pig.'

Ignoring the crowd for now, Ivan brought the shackles over to Gilbert, who was rubbing himself wantonly. Ivan pulled the other's hands away to shackle them. He looked at Gilbert who's drug fogged pink eyes smiled blindly back at him. Ivan was certain that Gilbert didn't even know who he was, and that was better. Ivan looked up, twirled the length of the chain, and let it fly up and over one of the bars. The weight of the chain fell quickly to the floor, its end coiling a few times like a snake. Ivan uncoiled it to get a firm grip on the links and lift Gilbert up from the floor. He heard his lover gasp and moan, in what could be pleasure or pain, as his body was lifted. As the albino hung by his wrists, Ivan decided to lower him just slightly, enough where he could comfortably penetrate him. He also didn't want too much strain on Gilbert's skinny wrists and paper-thin skin. Ivan glanced over to the crowd, seeing a few more coins being tossed their way. It was working much to his guilty dismay.

Securing the end of the chain around the horizontal bars, Ivan sauntered over to the hanging demon writhing in chains. Gilbert was still so small and skinny despite the amount of food he's been eating, so he made a quick mental note of that to tell the doctor later. There were more pressing matters at hand at the moment. Ivan had to admit that the sight of Gilbert hanging there, helpless, and begging to be taken was stimulating. If only it were in a different environment and there was only them. But he had to remain focused on the task, and that was to earn extra money for Gilbert…by exploiting him.

Standing behind him, Ivan bent Gilbert at the waist so his entrance was at perfect height with his cock. There was nothing to use for lubricant, so he improvised by spitting a few times into his palm. The crowd cheered him on as he coated himself and Gilbert with the saliva. Yet when he pressed the palm of his finger against Gilbert's hole, he felt the tender muscles puffed just slightly…as if they had previously been used. The feel of it made him stop to wonder what Gilbert was doing while he was gone, or who it was that bullied or raped him. The booing from the men brought him back to the scene, and despite the tenderness of the albino's muscles, Ivan began to press himself inside. He was right; someone had take Gilbert today and his lover had not told him. Why would Gilbert not tell him about this?

Yet the tightness and the heat from Gilbert's body dismissed the concerned and troubling thoughts from his head. Right now there was only his lust to satisfy along with Gilbert's. The albino was crying out during penetration, appearing to be in pain. Ivan knew his muscles were tender and probably hurting, so he had to make his lover feel pleasure and quick. Gripping the slim hips, Ivan roughly shoved forward, going balls deep in to his lover. Gilbert let out a wail that pleased the men and earned them another coin or two. Ivan didn't wait for Gilbert to adjust, he wasn't supposed to. As a priest fucking a demon he was to be in control and punish the creature. So that's what he did. He bounced Gilbert's ass against his lap, rocking the small body violently in the chains. Despite the rough treatment, Gilbert's cries and moans of pleasure assured him that what he was doing was more than satisfying. Closing his eyes he continued his series of thrusts.

'More…more…more!' Gilbert chanted in his head. 'I want more! Feels so good…'

He didn't know who he was or where he was. All he knew was the thick cock slamming in to him from behind, striking at that special spot and igniting every nerve in body. The harder the thrusts the more stimulating his body became. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, and couldn't see. That didn't change what he was feeling, and it was wonderful. His wrists were aching, as well as his hips where the person was grabbing him. They were tiny burdens that did nothing to cease the pleasure he was feeling. Suddenly his air supply was cut off, making him choke and gasp for breath. The iron thing around his neck was being pulled against his windpipe, but the thrusts were not slowing. His cock tightened and throbbed with the newfound pain mixed with pleasure. One hard strike against that special spot and he came, shuddering violently. The pressure was let off of his neck and he could breath again. The person pulled out of him, forcing a pathetic and wanton whine to squeeze out of his throat. The pressure was let off of his wrists and his body went tumbling to the cold ground.

Gilbert opened his eyes, looking all around at the strange environment he was in. Black lines…black blobs…muffled voices…white toothed grins…monstrously deep laughter. He must be on his back for everything was now upside down. Shining flickers of silver light came his way; some hit him in the face, others echoed near his ears. Where was he? Why was he still horny and aching for release. With a moan he reached down to rub himself, arching his back the moment the pleasure from his hand sent waves of delight through his belly. Something, or someone, stood over him; a dark and tall figure looming above. Gilbert didn't know who it was but shamelessly spread and lifted his legs, offering himself. The need to be filled was strong, yet deep down there was another reason he wanted that pleasing pressure in his backside. He wanted to feel this person near him. He wanted to hold this person close while he was fucked so he could pretend that he was loved. There was something wet on his cheeks, tears maybe? He simply reached his hands up to the unknown person, the black towering blob, and begged for attention. It was granted to him.

The person lay heavily atop of him, thrust that large cock deep inside, and held him tight. Gilbert cried in both happiness and pleasure as those thick arms and strong chest held him tight. The thrusts were beginning to hurt now, but Gilbert didn't care. What was most important to him were these strong arms holding him close. The thrusting grew harder, and violent. Gilbert cried out in pain, feeling the wooden box of his wings digging into his back. The pain was slowly starting to become unbearable, the drug seemed to be making him sick to his stomach, and that's when he started to panic.

"No more…!" He whispered to the person. "No more! I can't take it!" His plea fell on deaf ears. The person continued to thrust and there was nothing more he could do to stop them. Gripping tight, he grit his teeth and waited for the person to finish. He felt the person cum inside and the substance stung. It was agony. Then the person pulled out with the cum trickling down, which quickly grew cold against his skin. There was laughter, and something that sounded like clapping, coming from around him. What was it? He rolled over to see yet there were only blurry blobs now. Blobs that were people. 'Who are-'

He was suddenly lifted from the floor and sat in something soft; a lap. His mind was still too foggy and hazy to fight back. The person gripped under his thighs and spread his legs apart. Gilbert felt his face burn hotly from embarrassment as he saw that he was presented to the crowd of blurry people. He let his head fall back against the shoulder when a hand wrapped around his limp cock. Another hand traveled under his tunic to pinch a nipple. Immediately his arousal was reawakened despite the pain in his backside. The hand stroked his cock while the other pinched and rubbed his nipples. The sensation was numbingly mind-blowing for something so simple as basic touches. The person was kissing his neck now, rubbing a thumb over the slit of his erection to press down gently. Gilbert heard himself cry out and arch in to the touch. Then the person yanked on his neck chain, which forced his head to twist to the side. He could feel the person's breathe against his lips. The person held the chain tight, forcing his neck to arch against the iron. Gilbert looked in to the person's face yet still could not make out who they were. Then came the kiss. It was sweet at first and then turned probing. The thick tongue was exploring his mouth while the stroking of his cock grew faster. He moaned in to the kiss. The chain was let go and the hand returned to his nipples. They pinched and tightened painfully yet ached in a good way. He never wanted the kiss to break. But then he had to pull away when the pressure in his cock built up, bringing him to climax.

Panting, he fell limp against the person while the other people started to fade away. His vision grew dark, and he passed out.

/

Ivan was glad the show was finally over. He had pocketed all of the money they made for himself and Gilbert. Clifford tried to take a percentage of it, but Ivan refused to let him have it. Pumpernickel had brought Gilbert back to his wagon while Ivan argued with Clifford, trying to find out why Gilbert was raped.

"Why can't you protect him like you promised?" Ivan slammed his hand on the desk. "Who raped him?"

Clifford threaded his fingers together. "I had no choice in the matter. It was a policeman. An officer. It's city law that policemen don't have to pay for anything. This officer has had his eye on Gilbert, I believe. Or so he said. He knew who Gilbert was and insisted on sleeping with him. I had no control. It's out of my power, Ivan. If it were anyone else I could say no."

Ivan hissed through his teeth. "Those damned policemen!" He didn't blame Gilbert for not wanting to tell him. "You should have canceled the show tonight so Gilbert could rest!"

"Why? You made enough money taking over the show. That better not happen again, Ivan." Clifford warned. "Take over the show and you give me a percentage of the extra you earned! I'll let it go this time, but I won't always be so generous! You and Gilbert work for ME. Remember that."

Ivan said nothing more and left the office wagon to join up with Gilbert in his. Pumpernickel was just coming out of the wagon when Ivan appeared. "How is he?"

"Still out cold." Said the clown. "It should wear off soon."

Ivan raised a brow. "How do you know?"

"Well, I gave it to him." He put his hands up at Ivan's glare. "Hey, I did him a fucking favor! He was raped today by an officer!"

"I know. I heard."

"He wouldn't have gotten through this night if not for that drug!" He spat on the ground. "That policemen will be back, you know. He's got his eye on Gilbert knowing he's too helpless to protest."

"I will stop him." Ivan said firmly.

"How? How will YOU, a nobody, stop someone like a policeman? They have the power and the right to shoot you if you so much as look at them the wrong way. How will you protect Gilbert from that? Hm? What's your logic?"

Ivan didn't have a plan. The logical answer would be that he could not do a thing to help Gilbert if the police were to come in. If the officers got word of who he was then Ivan's life would be over. He couldn't risk that. Clifford and Billy knew who he was, they were still holding that over him.

"That's what I thought. Look, the best thing to do is remind Gilbert of his place here in the world. Like all of us, he is the scum of the street. The king, the police, the army, the rich, all of them look down upon us. If I were Gilbert," He pulled Ivan close to whisper. "If I were Gilbert, I would give in to the policeman."

"Why should he do that?"

The clown smirked. "Listen carefully. That officer? He likes when people fear him. He smells fear, he senses it, like a dog, and then he strikes. Gilbert is frightened of him; the albino is helpless and powerless to stop him. The officer feeds off of that fear. If Gilbert were to give in, pretend he enjoys it, and act excited when he comes around, than the officer will lose interest. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Ivan nodded. "So…he likes to rape because it's a sense of power. But…if the other acts like it's not rape-"

"He gets bored. That is what you have to tell Gilbert to do. That's the only way to get that guy off his back, and off yours. Got it?"

"Yes. Thank you again for your help." Ivan entered the wagon and locked it behind him. Gilbert was in bed and covered up. He still had the makeup on but everything else 'demon' was removed. 'Gilbert.' Ivan sat on the bed and stroked Gilbert's hair. 'You suffer so much in this world…yet you still have so much love to give.' He let out a sigh. 'Someone who has been through so much as you should be a mean, vulgar, rotten person. Instead you are kind, gentle, forgiving, and loving. Why is it that the good people always have to die? The wicked remain and the good go away.'

Ivan heard the other start to moan in pain. He watched Gilbert for any signs of the man waking up. Sure enough, pink eyes opened, wide but unseeing. The albino sat up quickly and began to shake violently.

"Cold! So cold!"

'Withdrawal.' Ivan recognized the basic symptoms. He took the top sheet and wrapped it around Gilbert's body, pulling the other close to him. "It's alright, Gilbert. It's alright. It'll go away."

"Cold! So cold…cold!" He shuddered violently, his teeth chattering.

'This isn't good.' Ivan just held him, stroking his face and hair. "Shh…shh…it'll be alright. Relax. Be calm. Shh."

"Make it stop! Please!"

"Shh. Just rest. All you can do is just rest. It'll pass." Gilbert was clinging to him with such strength Ivan didn't know the man possessed. The albino cried against him; he wailed, moaned, groaned, screamed, and sobbed. Poor Gilbert, he didn't know who he was or where he was. The drug was having a terrible effect on him.

"Help! Help me! Help!"

"Shh. Gilbert, listen to me. It's Ivan. Your Ivan. You're going to be okay. I'm getting us out of here."

"Sick." Gilbert said with a burp. "Sick!" Without another warning he vomited on the bed. It was a stream of a yellow and bloody mixture. Ivan used his sleeve to wipe away the mess on Gilbert's lips. "Help!"

"Throw it up. Throw it all up. It needs to get out of your body." The vomit wasn't a lot and it had stopped quickly. Now that Gilbert had thrown up most of the leftovers he would recover faster. At least he wasn't coughing.

After changing the bed and getting Gilbert tucked in again, Ivan made sure he drank a lot of water to flush his system. Gilbert was still confused as to who he was or what was happening. Ivan had been in that situation many times in the past. Now that the drug was wearing off Ivan hoped the other didn't have any flashbacks to what he did this night. The sex had paid off well, but it was at Gilbert's expense. Those men would be back for sure, eager to see more or get a chance at having Gilbert themselves. Well, they would be out of here before that could happen. Ivan was certain they had enough money for two train tickets. He counted out the coins on the vanity, seeing as he was five coins short of two tickets. He would have to sell something, but what? There was nothing on him worth five coins. He didn't want to steal or beg. If he put on a show then Clifford would take some of the money. It wouldn't be worth the hassle of a performance.

'Wait a minute…Gilbert's flute!' He could get twice as much for the flute! But it was Gilbert's most sacred treasure and he may never forgive him if he were to sell it without permission. 'It is only a material good.' Ivan concluded, taking the flute from Gilbert's coat pocket. 'He carries the memory of Fredrick with him, not in this flute.' Gilbert would just have to deal with it. His health was getting worse and they needed to get away from this place. It was worth the sacrifice and Gilbert's hatred, for a short time. The albino would have to get over it. 'I'm doing this for you, Gilbie.' He looked at the sleeping man on the bed.

Pocketing the coins, Ivan left the wagon to find a merchant to sell the flute too. After that, he would go and buy the train tickets. Freedom was just around the corner!

/

He woke up feeling sick, very sick. Gilbert groaned, rolling around on the bed and holding his head as it throbbed and ached. What had happened? He could remember some things from last night; people staring at him, laughter, the sex. His ass was hurting the most. Ivan must have done a number on him. 'Wait…I had the officer before…fuck.' Standing from the bed he went to the basin, feeling like he was going to throw up. Where was Ivan? Why wasn't Ivan here when he needed him? With a choke and a gag, he threw up some phlegm and- blood?

Gilbert's eyes stared wide at the sticky spit stream of blood dangling from his lower chapped lip. With a trembling hand he touched it, watching it smear just slightly across his fingertip. Glancing down in the basin he saw some floating speckles of blood among the water. He let out a sob, which set off a coughing fit. The force of it sent him to his knees, hacking and choking. He knew that wasn't spit he was feeling on his palm but blood. When it stopped, Gilbert was afraid to look at his hand, but he couldn't help it. There was too much blood, much more than before. Frightened, he grabbed the bottle of medicine and drank some. However, the medicine on an empty stomach combined with the traces of the drug had him throwing it back up onto the floor.

When his coughing settled down, he sat back on the floor, ignored the pain in his backside, and focused on the pain in his front. Both his stomach and chest ached terribly. Gilbert folded his knees up to his chest and began to cry silent tears. Memories from last night came flooding back in blurred images. He was chained up while Ivan fucked him for all to see. It seemed to him that Ivan was enjoying himself last night while he was suffering. But the drug kept all graphic details from making sense. They were still a blur to him, but if the pain in his ass was any indication, he had been fucked left and right last night. Which was all he was good for in this world. It was a sickening thought. There was no hope for him now. Everything he's done so far has all been for naught. His body was giving out on him, it was betraying him. There was no cure for what he had. No one could save him. No one could help him. All has been for naught. He had been starved, beaten, raped, and exploited; nothing good ever came out of it. There was nothing to look forward to but death. His death was right around the corner. His death lie in that puddle of bloody vomit on the floor.

'Death.' Gilbert lifted his head with a crooked grin. 'Death is easier. All the pain will go away…and then I can sleep. I can sleep forever…no more suffering. No more crying. Just an endless rest.' He forced himself to stand. 'But I can't stay here. I don't want to die here. Not in this horrible place.' Gilbert began to dress. 'I'll just…go away. Far away, like an old dog…and just lay down to die. The streets are my home…so I can die there.'

He paused when putting on his second shoe. What was wrong with him? Why was he thinking such thoughts? 'How could I leave Ivan? Oh, wait…he doesn't really love me.' Gilbert smiled sadly at his lap. 'Why should he love me? I can't spend my life with him. I'm so close to dying I can feel it. So what should I do?'

Gilbert did not want to die alone, but could he handle running away and leaving Ivan? Ivan didn't actually love him. If he stayed with Ivan and wait for death, the large man would only lie to him about his feelings. There was only mutual friendship, nothing deeply romantic. Knowing it was a lie hurt the most. Maybe it would be better to leave Ivan behind, just go away and leave himself to the mercy of God. Or in this case, at the mercy of Death. Death would help him while God simply abandoned him, and He did so long ago. And Ivan wouldn't have to sit by and watch him slowly die.

At least this way, he can continue to pretend that Ivan truly loves him.

'I can't take this life anymore. I have to go away. It's hopeless. Nothing can help. Soon I'll be with Fredrick and we will play the flute together in whatever afterlife there is.' He stood up to get his coat. 'And while I play I will think of Ivan because I love him. I do. I- where is it?' Gilbert frantically searched his coat for the flute. "Where is it? WHERE IS IT?" He screamed in frustration. "Did someone take it!" He searched the floor and the wagon, but there was no sign of it. "FUCK!" He slammed his fist on the floor. "DAMN IT! WHY? WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO DESERVE ALL THIS? WHY?"

That was the last straw. He snapped. His life was over. Grabbing his coat and hat, he exited the wagon. It was growing dark. Dark and cold, just like his future. With a curse of 'fuck you' to the sky above, he ran off and didn't stop.

/

"I would like two tickets please." Ivan dumped the silver and gold coins onto the ticket window counter. The ticket master just looked at him, confused and possibly frightened by his appearance of bandages.

"Um…this is strictly for-"

"For the people." Ivan smiled. "I have money. I earned this money while working at the circus. It's time to get out of the city and live in the country. So I would like two tickets for the countryside, please."

The ticket master counted the coins. "You do have enough for two, but-"

"I'm not dressed like a rich man?" Ivan finished for him. "Please, mister, I beg of you, allow me to buy these tickets and my friend and I will ride in the coal wagon. Or in the storage cart. We don't have to sit with the people. I'll even help with the coal. Please, this is very important to me. I must get to the country."

The young man simply stared at him for a moment, and then took all the coins. "I can't give you a scheduled time to leave."

"I don't care. I just need the tickets."

The man began to punch in some keys on a large machine. "These tickets will get you on the train, but you'll ride in the coal cart and work there." Ivan nodded. "You'll have to catch the train yourself. We're not going to wait for you or your friend." He cranked out two tickets. "So long as you have no destination and ride in the coal cart, hop on whenever you can." He handed Ivan the tickets.

Ivan looked at the printed tickets and held them close to his chest. "Sir, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I know my friend will, too! You see, he is very sick and being in the country will help him get better."

"That's nice, sir." The ticket master didn't seem to care. "Just make sure you give those tickets to the engineer when you board. The next train for the country leaves the day after tomorrow."

"Thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you!"

Ivan hurried out of the station with the tickets held firmly in his hand. Just wait until he showed these to Gilbert! He could just picture the albino beauty's face lighting up with joy and happiness! Ivan smiled at the image. 'I promise to make up for everything I've done to you, Gilbie! I promise! We're almost to freedom! We'll start a new life together for as long as we can! We-" Something smacked him hard I the mouth and he went down.

Sputtering up blood, it took him a moment to regain his sight. He still held the tickets firmly in his hand, but not for long. They were ripped from his grip while he was still trying to recover from the blow. Looking up, he noticed two policemen. One he recognized as the man who forced Gilbert in the back ally that time. Right now, that officer held those tickets in his hand. The other officer twirled his nightstick.

"Well, well, well, now we have rats trying to scurry on to the train? Where you headin' to, boy?" Ivan glared at the cocky officer. "Two tickets I see? Planning on leaving with your little albino friend?" Ivan's breath hitched. "He can't leave until I've fuck him again. My dirty little snowflake!" He said with a mocking laugh. "I'll be taking these tickets then!" He wiggled them over Ivan's head, as if he were taunting a cat. "The trains stink enough without the scum of street residing inside."

"…give me those tickets." Ivan said softly.

"Excuse me?" Asked the second officer. "What was that? You want them back?" Ivan stood up then. "They're our tickets now."

Ivan started to see red. "I said…give me…those tickets." His voice was deep and dark, holding a dangerous warning tone that struck a moment of fear in the officers.

The first officer took a step back. "Stand down, rat!"

His hand shot out and gripped the officer's throat before slamming him up against the brick wall.

_"**GIVE ME THOSE TICKETS**!_"

**End Chapter 10 TBC**

*****Only one more chapter to go!**


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